Intersecting Realities
by l33telboi
Summary: Things are about to change for three distant universes. Starcraft, Star Trek, Starwars crossover. Fic aka When Worlds Collide on other sites, changed due to a similarly named fic.
1. Chapter 1: The Koprulu Sector

**Chapter 1: The Koprulu Sector **

In a region of space, know to the Terrans as the Koprulu sector, a dropship skimmed across the surface of a rust brown planet named as Mar Sara, it's four giant ion engines flaring brightly. Some, had they seen the ship, might have said that the vessel was flying at a dangerously low altitude, too close to the surface, which was fairly unpredictable and dotted with hills, ridges and mountains that ever increased the danger of the ship crashing into something. But to the experienced pilot sitting in the cockpit of the ship the maneuvering was as simple as taking a stroll on an open field, the easiness no doubt in part due to the gravitic emitters assisting with the keeping of the altitude.

The craft was of a simple, yet elegant design, with rounded edges and an overall sleek look to it, very different from the bulky and blocky military ships usually seen in that sector of space. Blue highlights had even been painted on its otherwise black hull, signifying it's affiliation with the Mar Saran militia.

A peculiar looking symbol was also visible on the hull. It was that of a flag, with a blue cross drawn across it, on an otherwise unremarkable red background. Several small white stars were also lined within the cross, the number correlating with the number of worlds currently under control by the organization to which the image was affiliated. Some historians would recognize it as the Confederate flag from a civil war fought hundreds of years earlier on a planet lightyears from Mar Sara. Incidentally, the name of the organization currently associated with the symbol was also the Confederacy, weather by chance or purpose, nobody could tell.

Dawn had just broken, and the first rays from the scorching sun were already lighting up the red and brown landscape all around the speeding ship, bathing it in a bright light and making the sand shimmer, as if it were made of small grains of gold. Nothing, except a few plants and trees could be seen on the otherwise barren surface, no water, no buildings and no people, this was after all what the Confederacy had termed a backwater planet. Scarcely populated, with only a few mining colonies here and there. The natural resources being the only real reason anyone took any interest in the planet in the first place. The vast mineral fields and the vespene gas deposits, that the Confederate industry relied on so heavily, could be found in abundance on the planet.

Private Chris Morham, a marine in service of the colonial militia, sat in one of the many uncomfortable seats lined on either side of the dropship, strapped in tightly so that he wouldn't fall over every time the pilot had to maneuver sharply to avoid an outcropping or ride in the landscape. There were also five other marines in that same cramped little space of the drop bay, all belonging to the same squad as Morham.

Where the hell is the magistrate sending us this time, he wondered as he sat there, preparing mentally for the mission that was to come.

Planets like Mar Sara rarely saw any real military conflicts, so the tasks usually performed by the local militia were nothing more then keeping the peace and suppressing the occasional riot. The only real action they had seen was when the occasional pirate group or terrorist organization decided to use their planet as a base of operations. But those incidents were few and far between these days, with the Confederacy slowly tightening its grip on even the most remote worlds.

Morhams thoughts shifted from the mission to something he had been thinking about before they had touched off. For some time now, he had been wondering what life would be like outside the military, what it would be like as a civilian. He had served as a marine in the Confederacy almost all his adult life now, the reasons for joining long forgotten. At first he had been stationed on his home planet of Tarsonis, and then later, during the guild wars, he had been reassigned to the front, where he had spent two very long years trying just to survive.

During this time, he had voiced his opinions and dislikes of the Confederacy and their policies once to often and so he had finally been demoted, just as the war had ended, and that was why he was now stationed on Mar Sara. A position that had originally been intended as a punishment, but Morham had grown to like the peaceful little planet and the quiet atmosphere it harbored, a welcome change from all those muddy trenches he had spent most of his time in during the guild wars, with the sounds of automatic gunfire and explosions ringing constantly in his ears.

But thinking about leaving the military was pointless now. No one could retire any more, at least not alive, not since what happened at Chau Sara, the neighboring planet and twin of Mar Sara.

But then again, why would he even want to leave the service? All he knew was war and how to be a soldier, and a damn good soldier he was too. Still, he was getting tired of the same routines day in and day out. Life had to have something more besides killing in it, right? And the thought of someday having to re-live those two years of hell he experienced during the guild wars wasn't all that comforting, he wasn't sure he could go through all that one more time and survive, at least not with his sanity intact.

"'Ere, have a drink, you look like you could use one." The marine sitting next to Morham said, and extended a small silver colored flask his way. His voice was raspy and he reeked of the stuff inside the flask. Anderson was his name, a private just like Morham, and one of the closest and most trusted friends he had, despite his love for the bottle.

Their Sergeant hardly agreed with Morham's high opinions of him though. Being drunk during combat missions wasn't a quality he liked in his soldiers all that much. But despite all that, Anderson was a fair combatant. And out here on the very edge of civilized space, you couldn't be too picky, you hade to make due with what you had, even if it was a somewhat drunk marine carrying a fully automatic gaussrifle capable of tearing whole groups of people apart in mere seconds.

"Nah, thanks for the offer but I'd rather be sober during this one, I've had a bad feeling about this mission all morning." Morham replied.

"Suit yerself then," Anderson said, taking a big gulp from the flask. "Me on the other hand," he continued, stopping in mid sentence as if to gather his own thoughts. "I need a little alcohol in me to get the old blood pumping." He said, finishing with a hearty laugh and another gulp from the flask. "Besides, I'd probably go insane if wasn't drunk during these engagements."

Morham didn't doubt that, and if the man kept going like this, he would probably pass out long before they even got out of the ship, which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.

But Anderson and Morham weren't the only ones in the dropship waiting for their deployment. Sitting next to and in front of them were three other marines, all part of their six man squad, with the sixth, their Sergeant, still in the cockpit with the pilot. No doubt on the horn with command, receiving orders and deciding on the best way to execute them.

The other marines were all clad in the same kind of standard issue CMC-400 powered combat suits Morham and Anderson was. A suit designed to enhance the combat effectiveness of a soldier by adding a great deal of protection and strength, as well as a nifty heads-up display to the soldier's disposal. Heck, you could even take a walk in space with the damned thing on, as it had an autonomous life-support unit and offered full NBC protection to the wearer, all so that the marines could fight on planets not otherwise suited for human life. Though Morham had to admit that he thoroughly hated missions situated in space, the thought of going spinning off into the endless void and then lowly running out of air wasn't the best way to die in his mind. The only downside with the suit was that the agility was severely hampered due to its bulkiness. So bulky in fact, that Morham thought they made the men inside look kinda like super sized steel gorillas.

Though they all wore the same kind of armor, they each had a very unique look to them that helped them recognize who was who in combat situations. It was, in fact, common practice among marines serving on the fringe worlds, where Confederate regulations weren't as strongly enforced, to paint and augment their suits so that they had a very personal look and feel to them. Including nifty catchphrases like 'death incarnate' and various images, like Anderson had done, was something practiced by the general majority here, so too in Morham's squad. He himself sported a suit with the image of a clenched fist on his right shoulder pad and the phrase 'Ass-end here' with an arrow pointing to his foot, on his left leg.

The same kind of augmentation was also done with their C-14 rifles, with Morham having named his 'Bertha', after a particularly vicious dame he had had an unfortunate encounter with a few years back, and lettering the phrase 'I come in peace' on its side.

The door separating the drop area of the dropship from the cockpit slid open suddenly, and into the drop bay stepped a man, wearing an even bulkier model of the combat suit then the CMC-400. It was Sergeant Coldwell. He was closely followed by another man, this one wearing only his civvies. Morham didn't recognize him so he presumed he was a technician or perhaps an engineer assigned to their squad for the duration for the mission for some reason.

There was something very odd about him though, something that felt out of place. Morham couldn't quite put his finger on what that might have been, but there was definitely something strange about the man. The way he moved for example, it almost seemed too graceful and too controlled. And his eyes, they were a piercing blue color and darted around the drop bay with a very calculating look in them, and when they met with Morham's own, the marine couldn't help but turn away from the sheer intensity in them. No, there was something very different with this man, that much was plainly noticeable now, and the realization of exactly what that was hit Morham like a brick to the head a few seconds later.

"Alright marines, listen up!" The Sergeant shouted, demanding everyone's full attention. The men quieted in anticipation, perhaps he had finally deemed it fit to let them in on their orders, they had after all been waiting for nearly an hour already, without the slightest idea about where they were going and what they were supposed to do.

"No doubt you have all heard about the aliens attack on Chau Sara by now," The Sergeant started, and yes, they all had. In fact, it would have been quite the trick to avoid hearing about it, with every single news station talking about nothing else but just that, and rumors spreading through the colonies like wildfire.

"But just to separate the rumors from the facts, I will start by restating the true version of what happened during the attack and thereafter. Keep in mind that what you are about to hear is classified and should not to be repeated ever again." He said, giving the men a glare that told them that should they disobey, they would quickly find his foot up their ass.

"Two days ago, a large fleet of alien warships dropped out of warp near the planet in question. They then proceeded to destroy the small contingent of ships stationed in the planets orbit and bombard the entire surface for a prolonged period of time. They gave no warning and no explanation for what they did, except to identify themselves as the Protoss, and as a result of their actions, every single living thing on that planet, along with over ten thousand colonists, were wiped out in a matter of seconds."

So it was true, Morham thought. The entire planet was dead now, just like the rumors had said. Why would an alien race they hadn't even heard of before do something like this. And why wasn't he more surprised that aliens existed? It wasn't as if any had ever been encountered before.

"This unprovoked attack was quickly followed by a large Confederate fleet in the nearby system mounting for a counter attack, the operation however, failed miserably, and most of the ships participating were destroyed in the ensuing chaos." He continued.

So it's war then, Morham thought, the Confederacy was at war with the mysterious aliens known as the Protoss. He guessed that whoever won wouldn't really matter to him, as he was bound to die before the end. His hopes of never again seeing the horrors he saw during the guild wars were quickly diminishing.

"And this is where we come in gentlemen. I'll let specialist Fitch here explain the details of our mission to you." He motioned to the man who had come in behind him to take his place and speak up.

"During the battle between the two fleets, a group consisting of three smaller Protoss vessels were separated from the main force and forced to crash land here on Mar Sara, intelligence have since determined that the three vessels in question were shuttles or transports of some sort. Our mission is to secure the wreckage of these three ships, so that the R&D boys back home can examine the surviving technology in grater detail." The specialist explained.

This peaked Morham's interest. At first he had thought that they were simply being sent to reinforce some distant military outpost, or perhaps calm some panicking civilians, but now he realized that they might even get go up against the Protoss themselves.

"I should add that we are expecting most of the Protoss, if not all of them, to be dead from the crash itself, but if there are survivors I want you all to be prepared for combat. If their ground forces are anything like their navy, we will be in for one hell of a fight."

"And what might your part in this mission be, Sir?" Private Sanders asked.

The question was a moot one of course, since the marines had all pretty much guessed what Fitch's role in all this would be. He was a ghost, a highly skilled assassin and infiltrator. Some rumors even suggested his kind had telepathic abilities, though that seemed a little too fantastic to be true to Morham. The Confederates no doubt wanted someone they knew they could trust on this mission, and who more loyal then someone trained to obey since birth?

Fitch's eyes narrowed dangerously on the marine that had asked the question. "My part in this mission is exactly the same as yours, to look for surviving Protoss and eliminate them if the need arises." He said and turned around to go back to the cockpit.

Just as cold as all the other ghosts he had met before, Morham thought.

"We will be touching down a few klicks from the crash site, but I want all of you on high alert the second we exit this transport. Now get your gear ready and prepare for combat, the drop will be made in a few minutes." Sergeant Coldwell said and turned to join Fitch back in the cockpit. The door slid shut behind the pair, leaving a very quiet pack of marines behind.

"Wow! We're actually going up against the Protoss! Do you realize that we will be the first ones to engage them in ground combat? Or even the first ones to actually see what they look like, even if they are already dead when we arrive" One of the marines finally said excitedly.

"I wonder if they will be the short gray type people always claim to have shown up in their backyard." Another asked.

"Now there's a freaky thought." Sanders chimed in.

"I just hope there are still a few of them alive after the crash. That way we get to be the ones to kill 'em." The one who had spoken up first chuckled, eager too engage the mysterious enemy and deal them the retribution they so rightly deserved.

But Morham knew better then to hope for survivors, if the Protoss fleet had been able to destroy dozens of their ships in a matter of minutes, then their soldiers would no doubt be able to do the same thing to their ragtag squad. "Good thing you took that flask with you Anderson, I have a feeling staying sane during this mission is going to be hard." Morham mumbled to himself.

-----

The lights that a minute ago had bathed the drop area of the ship in a green hue changed to red, signaling that the marines were to prepare themselves for embark. They unfastened the belts that had been securing them and stood up, grabbing a hold of a railing just above their heads.

The modern day dropships, in difference to the old ones, didn't land to allow the marines to embark. No, that would take to long and would jeopardize the dropships themselves in the process. Instead the dropships now had two huge doors in the middle of the drop room, separating the two rows of seats that the marines had been sitting in just moments ago. When the ship was ready to make the drop, two of its four engines would rotate, so that the engine wash was directed downwards, allowing the ship to remain stationary for just a few seconds. During this time the doors would open, allowing the marines to jump through them, their suits protecting them from any injury as they landed on the ground a dozen meters below them.

The engine wash of course provided the marines with one more advantage on planets like Mar Sara. It covered their drop area in a cloud of sand and dust, shielding them from any hostiles that might want to target them when they first exited the craft.

"Alright boys, it's nearly time." The Sergeant said as he stepped back into the drop area from the cockpit. The Ghost was with him again, this time wearing that all too familiar black stealthsuit they were so fond of.

The two took up stations beside the marines, waiting for the drop doors to open. They didn't have to wait long either, as the room was filled with the hiss of the opening doors a few seconds later, the bright light from the outside nearly blinding the men in the process. Their helmets automatically adjusted to the bright light, dimming the visors and allowing the marines perfect vision once again.

The first one to disembark was Private Sanders, jumping out into the swirling chaos of dust and sand below them. He quickly proceeded to check the area for any hostiles, using his close range sensor systems that were built into his suit.

His sensors showed no contacts so the all-clear was given to the rest of his squad, who dropped from the hatch in quick succession, with the Sergeant and the Ghost being the last two to exit the craft.

The men formed a circular perimeter, with a generous amount of space between each of the soldiers, so as to minimize the damage, should they come under attack and area effect weapons would be deployed against them. This was merely a precaution as the sensors already told them they were alone out there.

"Alright boys, I'm heading out so you're on your own from now on, call me when the crash site has been secured." The pilot in the dropship said, and then broke to speed off away from the marines.

Once the dust and sand had settled enough for the marines to visually confirm they were in-fact alone, they could ease up a bit.

Morham took a look around the area they had been dropped off at. There were sharp ridges shooting up on all sides around them, with only a single route leading out of the shielded area. The route looked like a miniature canyon as the ridges continued on, on both its sides. It would provide the marines further cover once they started moving towards the wreckage.

"The target area is just a few clicks east of here. If we follow the canyon here it should lead us straight to the crash site." The Sergeant finally said when he was certain they were alone. "We're going to proceed towards it in a single file, loosely spaced. I want everyone on their toes, the Protoss, if there were survivors, may very well have taken up stations on the ridges to the sides."

"As for you Specialist," He turned to the Ghost. "You climb the ridge there and provide cover for us. The altitude should give you a great vantage point for sniping and scouting. Contact us the second you see anything suspicious."

Sergeant Coldwell took point and soon the men were proceeding through the canyon as fast as they could, without making too much of a ruckus in the process. Each and every one of them continually scanned their surroundings for any signs of hostiles, both visually and with the built in sensors. But the land was as dead as can be, apart from the occasional plant there was nothing but sand, dirt and rock in every direction.

Anderson took this little stroll through the countryside as a good thing, and thought it quite nice. So nice in fact that he started whistling a happy old tune to himself, he had his comms switched off of course, so that no one else could hear him.

Morham on the other hand, took the advance very seriously, and checked his short range scanners continuously. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

"Contact!" Screamed one of the marines, a scream that was closely followed by the dull 'thwumps' his gauss rifle made as he let loose a burst from it.

The rest of the squad got down on their knees and targeted the area the marine was shooting at, joining in on spraying the area with fire. The needles peppered whatever he was shooting at, throwing the dust from the ground into the air making it impossible to see what it was he was targeting.

"Hold your fire!" The Sergeant shouted, putting his hand on one of the marine's rifles, lowering it to the ground. A few moments later they were all completely silent, staring at the area they had just fired at.

"But I saw something moving out there, I'm sure of it!" The marine who had opened fire protested, wanting to reopen fire until he was sure nothing could have survived.

"I know you did son, I saw it too." The Sergeant said, leaving the marine with a perplexed look on his face, and walked over to the spot the marine had fired at. There was still too much dust in the air to see what exactly he had been shooting at but it all became much more clear when the Sarge hoisted a dead rhynadon, or what was left of it, into the air, holding it out for the men to see.

"And just to inform everyone else, what you see here is NOT a Protoss warrior, it is in fact nothing but a six legged mammal called a Rhynadon, they're quite known in these parts for their exquisite meat, but even so I would suggest you hold your fire next time until you see the real thing!" He said with an irritated voice. In his mind he knew that any surprise they were hoping to have once they reached the crash site was gone now.

The column of marines got on with their advance, Coldwell taking point once more. And after a while they reached their destination, clearing the canyon that had led them there. They could see the first crashed vessel some distance away with the two others even further from that, smoke was still rising from their superheated and charred hulls.

"Must've been some landing." Anderson said.

"Yeah, I don't think anything could've survived that." Another marine replied.

"Shut up and take up tactical positions!" The Sergeant demanded.

The marines crouched down at the lip of the long and narrow crater that had been created when the vessel first slammed into the ground. It was about twenty meters wide and many times that in length. They spread out and lay down, keeping some distance from each other to increase their chance of avoiding detection. They checked the debris for any signs of life but none was visible.

On the ridge to their left, Fitch was doing the same thing, combing through the area with his sniper scope, trying to find some evidence of something still alive down there. But the smoke and debris clouded most parts of the ship from his sights. The most troubling aspect of it all was that he could see no bodies, no dead Protoss whatsoever.

"Why the hell are we crawling around in the dirt for? Nothing could have survived that crash." One of the marines said, voicing what everybody else was thinking and what had already been stated. Morham was still not quite convinced though.

"Well now, that's just a damn shame now isn't it?" The voice of Private Sanders could be heard. "I was looking forward to personally thanking a few of the Protoss for what they did at Chau Sara." He laughed with a few others of the marines joining in on his mirth. It seemed as if much of the tension that had been built up during the march had now been relieved.

"Well in that case, Private Sanders won't have anything against taking a closer look at that wreckage, now will he?" Sergeant Coldwells voice crackled through the comm systems, a statement that promptly ended the laughs. "Oh don't worry, the rest of us will cover you from up here." He added. Apparently Morham wasn't the only one not completely satisfied with the idea that the area was clear.

Sanders didn't doubt his own assessment of the situation, but he was still a little nervous about getting closer to the wreck, what if there were automated turrets or mines there, what if something suddenly blew up in his face.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get down there and report back when you've cleared the area." The Sergeant insisted.

"Yes, sir!" Sanders replied grumpily.

The marine got up from his position and walked over to the edge of the crater, looking for the easiest way down. One of the marines thought he saw something shimmer in the sunlight some distance away but by the time he realized what it was, it was already too late.

"Get down!" He screamed, trying to get Sanders to take cover, just as a bolt of what looked like pure blue energy crashed into him. The blast blew Sanders left shoulder and a big chunk of his torso to pieces, separating his arm from his body and sending his dead body flying to the ground.

The marine who had first spotted the danger looked back at Sander's broken body, where it lay a few meters from him, shocked to his very core by the gory sight. He could hear the other marines shouting out frenzied commands and opening fire all around him, but he himself could not move, unlike Morham he had never seen real combat before, much less a dead friend.

None of them had seen exactly where the shot had originated from and they all knew they were probably hitting nothing but dirt, but still they held the trigger. A few of them even launched grenades but all the good that did them was shower the entire area in dust and smoke, giving the Protoss perfect cover.

"Hold your fire! Hold your goddamn fire!" The Sergeant screamed over and over again over the comm and after a while the fire finally died down. "We need to find the hostile before we start shooting otherwise we'll just end up hitting nothing!" He shouted.

The others realized their mistake and turned back to the crater, but this time all they did was wait and watch for a clear target to present itself. Morham could feel the cold sweat running down his face and he could hear his heavy almost panicked breathing. He knew something like this would happen.

And it was still far from over.

There! What was that? For a split second Morham thought he saw something, a shadow perhaps, moving behind the veil of dust and smoke, and it was coming towards them. He searched for the shadow again but he could see nothing, nothing but clouds of sand.

Then he heard a shout from one of the marines situated far to his left. He turned towards him and saw a bipedal creature exiting the dust cloud at a running pace, climbing up the wall of the crater so quickly, it almost seemed as if it wasn't even there. It had to be at least a head taller then the marine it was heading for, even with his suit on. And it was clad in golden armor with twin blades jutting out from its arms, but the blades were not made from any tangible material, they were made from what seemed like pure energy.

The three marines closest to the enemy got up to their knees and started firing at the advancing monstrosity. But the spikes never connected with it, an energy field of some sort shimmered into existence just before they were about to impact, harmlessly repelling them. And before they knew it, the warrior was at arms length from the marine he had been running for. With a few swift moves of his blades, the Protoss warrior had cut the marine down, the comm filling with the screams of the dying marine and then the sound abruptly changed to a gurgling noise as his lungs were filled with his own blood.

The Protoss turned to head for the marine next in line, but now the field surrounding him had started to buckle from the continuous fire the other marines were dishing out, and soon it failed. But not before it managed to get one of it's blades through the visor of yet another marine, killing him instantly. Without the shielding the warrior was torn apart even as his bladed arm was still lodged in the dead marines head, body parts and blue blood flew from the warrior, leaving nothing but a crumpled heap of guts and gore on the ground after a few more seconds of fire. And a severed arm still sticking out of the dead marines visor.

Then another shout was heard, this time from the marine to Morhams right, it was private Anderson. Morham got up and aimed his rifle at the Protoss running for his friend. This was also the one who had killed Sanders he realized, when he saw the rifle strapped to its back. The two marines let out burst after burst of fire but the enemy didn't so much a flinch, much less slow his inhuman advance towards Anderson, and soon he was upon him.

Anderson gave one final scream and tried to press the trigger as hard as he could. But his finger and the rifle were no longer connected to the rest of his body he noticed. Anderson looked down in horror at his severed arm lying on the ground, still holding the rifle. Cut clean from his body by one swipe from the enemy's energy blades. Then he looked back at the warrior.

The last thing Private Anderson would ever see was another energy blade, this one swiping across, cutting his head from his body.

Morham watched in horror as his headless friend fell limp to the ground, the severed parts of his head landing a few meters away. He was in a state of full panic now and all he could do was hold down the trigger on his rifle and scream as hard as he could. He hoped the Protoss shielding would fail before it reached him, but he knew that was wishful thinking.

But unexpectedly the warrior didn't turn towards Morham. Instead it headed the other way, towards an advancing Sergeant Coldwell. The warrior stopped dead in its tracks though when Coldwell fired both his wrist mounted flamethrowers and bathed the fiend with superheated plasma. The shield around the Protoss glimmered brightly for a few seconds and then gave way under the continuous strain. Without the protection provided by the shield the warrior was burned alive, his armor melting into nothing more then slag and fusing with his charred skin until nothing remained but a molten heap of metal and skin blended together in a steaming pile of filth.

A scream turned both Morham and the sergeant to their left again, a third enemy had emerged from the clouds. But this one didn't come running at them like the others had. In fact it didn't even look like the two others Morham noticed, instead of the golden armor and twin blades the others had this one sported a long, flowing robe and it carried no visible weapons at all.

But when the only remaining marine, except for himself and Coldwell, fell dead to the ground, Morham knew he had been wrong when he had thought it unarmed. The Sergeant leaped out in front of Morham and ran towards the new enemy, thinking he could close the distance fast enough too engage it with his flamethrowers. But the Sergeant was still a long way from the enemy when he suddenly stopped and screamed so loud that Morham had to silence his comm. Coldwell was clutching the headpiece of his armor with his hands, but Morham could se no weapon used against him or any wound that would explain what was happening. He looked back to the Protoss and saw that it held its hand out towards the Sergeant, as if it was reaching for him from afar, trying to grab him. Morham lifted his rifle to his shoulder and fired at the strange warrior, but the all too familiar blue shielding intercepted his needles once more. The sound of accelerated spikes soon changed to that of an empty clicking sound, he was out of ammo, unable to attack the creature and left nearly defenseless.

The Sergeant gave one final scream and then his visor exploded outwards. He fell to the ground and blood flowed from the hole in his helmet. On the inside, Morham could see that there was nothing more then a gory mess of brain and pieces flesh left where his head should have been. His head had exploded, but how? Morham didn't know what to think anymore, his entire squad had been taken down by only three of the Protoss, and now he was out of ammo, with the most dangerous one of them slowly approaching him.

"Well fuck you and your whole piece of shit species then!" He screamed and held his rifle out in front of him like a club, intent on dishing out some damage before he himself was killed. He got in one swing at the fiend but it parried it and smacked him to the ground, all too easily. He thought he was going to die right then and there but then he saw something shimmer behind the Protoss. A trick of his eyes, a mirage? He heard a dull thud and then the Protoss fell to the ground, landing just in front of Morhams feet.

"Now that's what I call battle!" He heard a voice say but couldn't discern where it came from, it was as if it had come from thin air. If he had stayed conscious for a few more seconds he would have understood why, as Fitch the Ghost disabled his cloak and reappeared, standing over the unconscious Protoss with a triumphant grin stretched across his face.

-----

Several hours had passed since the firefight when Morham finally woke from his unconsciousness. It took a while for him to remember exactly where he was and what he was doing there, but slowly it was all coming back to him. He arched his back up and supported himself on his elbow, lifting the other hand up in front of his eyes to shield him from the bright sunlight.

He could see the silhouettes of people all around him. They were milling about, examining things and carrying various objects that looked much like pieces from the Protoss wreckage to and fro. The dropship that had brought him and his squad on the mission was also there, along with maybe six other ships that looked like cargo haulers and military transports.

"Glad to see your awake and well again." Morham heard a voice say.

"Wha… What happened?" He stammered, not fully remembering all the details of the mission yet. "The mission… I thought I was going to die." he continued trying to sort out all his feelings and thoughts. But the overpowering memory of the advancing Protoss dominated everything else.

"And indeed you would have if I hadn't been there to save your ass." The voice said again. And this time Morham recognized it. That cold and icy voice could belong to no one else but Fitch. Memories of his squad dying all around him filled his thoughts and a cold realization that Fitch had never joined the fray to help followed closely. Not until only one of the damn Protoss was left and his squad was eliminated.

Morham forced himself to his feet and turned towards the Ghost. He was smiling, that bastard was smiling although Morham had just been forced to watch his squad and his friends ripped apart by their enemies. Without another thought Morham moved to strike the bastard, but he was still too groggy and Fitch sidestepped his fist easily.

"Is that the proper way to thank the one that saved your life?" Fitch asked with an angry voice.

"Saved me?" Morham echoed incredulously. "Saved me! You let my entire squad be slaughtered without so much as lifting a goddamn finger to help and then you want me to thank you for saving me?" the anger shook Morham from his grogginess and this time his punch connected. Fitch stumbled to the ground, his eyes flaring menacingly.

"You don't seem to get it, do you?" Fitch spat. "I wasn't sent to protect you or your pitiful little squad of rednecks from the Protoss. The Confederacy couldn't care less about your lives. I had a different set of instructions, namely to capture a live Protoss for later interrogation, your squad was merely sent to distract them while I did this. So be glad I decided to act when I did, I could have let you die and trust me, you wouldn't have been missed." he concluded and got up again. "Besides, even if I wanted to help you I couldn't have, not after some moron thought it appropriate to cover the entire area in dust. From where I was I couldn't see you or the Protoss."

Morham wanted to hit Fitch again. But he knew it would be pointless, what the Ghost said was true, especially the last part about the dust. His feelings of anger gave way to that of helplessness. Things were what they were and there was nothing he could do about it anymore.

"And now that you've settled down, I've got new orders for you." Fitch said once he realized that Morham wasn't going to try to hit him anymore.

"What?" Morham asked with a resigned voice, no longer able or willing to argue. Fitch was a little angered at the apparent lack of respect for a superior officer but decided to let it go.

"We are to escort the captured Protoss to a rendezvous point with the Confederate fleet, and from there they will take over."

Morham was a little surprised at himself for not actually being angered by the thought of transporting one of the Protoss that had been responsible for decimating his team. Objectively he realized that in the end he was probably no different from Morham, he was just doing his job and in the end he had been the one to actually loose. The Protoss had also seen his entire squad killed by the Terrans. Hell, he had probably lost a lot more friends then Morham. And that thought comforted the marine a little. "Fine, show me the way and let's be gone from this blasted place."

A few hours later Morham was sitting in the exact same seat he had been sitting in when he was on his way to the mission site. Only this time, his friends had been replaced by an unconscious Protoss warrior and a Ghost.

"You sure he ain't getting free?" Morham asked and pointed to the shackles binding the Protoss ankles and hands.

"Quite, he's been pumped full of tranquilizers and should be out for at least a few days." Fitch said. "And even if he managed to sober up somehow, those shackles would stop him from doing much harm." he added.

"Good, cause it would be a shame if I had to kill the bastard if he tried to escape." Morham said and gritted his teeth.

Fitch laughed at that remark. "You? You think you could kill him?" He asked, looking directly at Morham with an incredulous expression on his face, his eyes fixing Morhams, never blinking.

Morham said nothing, just stared back at Fitch. "This is no ordinary Protoss warrior we have here," Fitch said. "Do you honestly think you could defeat him after you saw what he did to Coldwell? He doesn't need weapons to kill, all he has to do is use his psionic abilities to fry your brain. That's what he did to the others in your team." Fitch explained.

"Didn't you just say those shackles would keep him from doing any harm?" Morham asked.

"Well yes, it would keep him from doing any harm to me, you see as a ghost I'm able to shield myself from his abilities to a degree, enough for me to incapacitate him with my more conventional weapons anyway. You on the other hand, you're screwed if he decides to take a shot at you." Fitch laughed. Morham wasn't amused, but he knew what Fitch had just told him was true so he decided to drop the issue.

A few minutes spent in silence passed. Morham's eyes never left the unconscious Protoss. It was the only other form of life known to have an intelligence, at least as great as humans, and yet it looked so very odd. It was roughly humanoid in form, it had two arms, two legs, a head and a torso. Although the legs were reverse jointed, like a goat's, and the torso and the limbs looked quite frail. But frail was far from what this creature was Morham thought, as he remembered how easily it had swatted him aside, even with his armor on. How do they communicate? Morham wondered. He could see no mouth and yet he knew they had to have some form of communicational abilities. Telepathy? He speculated, it would certainly fit considering what Fitch had told him about its mental powers.

He was shaken from his thoughts when the comm system crackled to life. "You boys better strap yourselves in," the pilot said with a slight worry noticeable in his voice. "My scanners are picking up some weird readings all around us and I don't think I can avoid-"

Morham never heard the end of that sentence as the entire ship rocked violently and threw his head into the wall beside him, knocking him unconscious in the process. Fitch suffered a similar fate, but the pilot wasn't so lucky. The turbulence cracked the cockpit of the dropship open like an eggshell, sucking the pilot out into space as it did. The pilot tried to scream in denial, but no sound was heard, and suddenly the cold and empty space around him made itself terribly obvious. Dying in the vacuum of space had never been a pleasant notion, but the thought of it didn't quite compare to the actual thing.


	2. Chapter 2: The Anomaly

**Chapter 2: The Anomaly**

In an entirely different part of the universe, an entirely different reality even, separated from the Koprulu sector not only by space and time, but dimension, a starship could be seen speeding through the empty void of space. The stars surrounding it looked more like thin strands of multi colored light then the usual white dots people are used to see when they look up at the night sky, the reason of course being that the ship in question was travelling at speed far beyond that of light.

Some people would recognise this ship as a Sovereign-class starship, one of the newest models to be produced by the United Federation of Planets. Others still might recognise it as the Enterprise, one of the most decorated ships in all of Starfleet, and indeed its very flagship. The crew and its Captain, Jean-Luc Picard, had been apart of many strange stories heard throughout this quadrant of space, and their heroics hadn't gone unnoticed by anyone with even the smallest sense of adventure.

But in sharp contrast to the silence of the empty void outside the ship, the inside, more specifically the mess hall, was ablaze with laughter and sound, as the crew of the ship welcomed back a very old friend.

Lt. Commander Worf had rejoined his old crew once more for a diplomatic mission to Q'onoS, the Klingon homeworld. Starfleet hoped that his presence among the delegation might be looked upon favourably by the Klingons, since he in part had been responsible for the exposing of the changeling posing as Martok not too long ago.

And in truth, Picard had asked Worf to accompany them for personal reasons as well. Worf had been sorely missed by the crew since his reassignment to Deep Space Nine, and Picard thought that his short visit on board the Enterprise might be a boost to the otherwise sore morale, what with the threat of war with the Dominion hanging over their heads.

Worf, who had always been one to avoid gatherings like these as best he could, was standing alone in the crowded room, with a half empty champagne glass in his hand, hoping that the spectacle would be over soon and that he could resume his duties.

All around him he could see people chatting, laughing and generally having a very good time. But Worf much preferred his solitude from the constant gossiping and talking the humans so enjoyed. His eyes fixed a foursome that was nearly bending over with laughter, a disapproving scowl on his face. The large man drained the tiny looking glass in his hand with one swift motion and put it down on a table near him.

"Looks like you could use another one." He heard the familiar voice of Deanna Troi say behind him. He turned around and found her standing there with another glass stretched out towards him.

"I suppose it could help me get my mind off this... gathering." He said and accepted the glass. Troi had to suppress a small chuckle, it didn't take an empath to see that Worf was clearly annoyed. The Klingon hadn't changed a bit.

"I hear you received command of your own ship, the Defiant, right?" Deanna asked, trying to switch the topic to something that might be more to Worf's liking. Apparently it worked too, as his expression brightened up instantly.

"Indeed," Worf said with a hint of pride in his voice. "Captain Sisko thought it fit to leave me in charge of the ship, he himself has his hand full with the station, so it was quite understandable."

"And what are your thoughts on the meeting on Q'onoS? Do you think we will be received well?" Troi continued asking. This time more for her own benefit then anyone else's. How they would be received by the Klingons was anyone's guess, and Deanna always liked to know a little about the situations they were getting themselves into beforehand.

"That, I'm afraid I cannot say. It is very difficult to predict how the Klingon High Council will react to something like this. On one hand, they know they need the help of Starfleet if both our governments are to survive, this much they already admitted to Captain Sisko, but as you undoubtedly know, their pride very often get in the way of their reasoning. I wouldn't be surprised if they suddenly thought they could take on the entire Dominion all by themselves and forfeit the alliance with Starfleet." Worf said at length.

"Hello there, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Yet another familiar voice asked. This time the voice was that of Beverly Crusher, the ship's chief medical officer.

"Oh no, not at all, we were just discussing the upcoming meeting on Q'onoS." Troi explained.

"Ah, so are everyone else." The Doctor smiled, having already been over the subject with a number of other people in the room. "Somehow I get the feeling that there will be a lot of bruises and broken bones that will have to be fixed before the meeting is over, and that's if the meeting goes peacefully."

The comment was meant as a joke, but all three of them realised that the truth probably wasn't too far from that prediction. Klingon gatherings had a tendency to get a little on the rough side.

On the other side of the room, Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Enterprise, stood. He was looking out of one of the viewports, at the backdrop that was space. For some reason, seeing all those thousands of bright stars out there had a calming effect on him. His hand was rubbing his chin, a telltale sign that the Captain was deep in thought. No doubt he was just as happy as anyone else to be reunited with one of his old officers, if only for a short while. But bigger things now occupied his thoughts, namely the increasing hostilities between the Federation and the Dominion.

The latest report on the subject had reached him just before the Enterprise had set off from Earth, and the news was grim indeed. Most of the people in Starfleet HQ were already talking about the matter as if it wasn't a question of if there would be war, but rather when it would be.

Picard, who still bore the mental scars from their last major clash with hostile aliens, the Borg, back during the Wolf 359 incident, had begun to feel a little too old for this sort of thing. He wished he could go back to the days when the Enterprise was on a mission to explore the unknown parts of this galaxy, instead of jumping between hotzones, trying to calm an increasingly volatile situation. And as if to punctuate his increasing weariness and age, he slid his hand over his bald head and fast receding hair line.

"Everything alright, Captain?" William Riker asked, managing to startle Picard somewhat by his sudden appearance. "You look like you're a million lightyears away." He added.

"Yes, everything is quite alright," Picard replied. "It's just that I can't seem to stop thinking about the political situation we currently find ourselves in."

"The political situation? You mean you're thinking about the Dominion and their play for power again. It's a tough situation, I'll give you that. But there's not much we can do from out here either, except maybe help keep the Klingons on our side."

"I know, I know. But still. I've started to wonder if true peace can ever be achieved." Picard started. And then in a slightly louder and more frustrated voice added "Every time we manage to avert a disaster or defeat an enemy a new one shows up, this one even stronger and far more deadly then the last. Is it going to go on like this forever?"

Riker really didn't have an answer for that, in fact the very same thoughts had been plaguing him lately.

"Well, the way I see it, it all comes down to one simple question. If somehow you knew that peace could never truly be achieved, would it make you stop trying to attain it? Or would you still try to reach for it?" Riker asked.

Picard thought about the matter for a while, but both of them already knew the answer. "Yes, yes of course." He said in a soft voice. "I don't think I could live knowing that I haven't tried my utmost to uphold the ideal of the Federation. Even if I knew it was all in vain."

Riker, starting to feel a little depressed by the mood the Captain was showing, thought to divert his attention to something a little more pleasant. "Worf doesn't seem to be particularly pleased by our little celebration."

Picard laughed at that statement. "No indeed, I'm guessing his Klingon heart would rather be in the gamma quadrant right now, battling the Jem'Hadar and singing songs of bravery and glory."

The old warrior was indeed still the same man the Captain had known all those years he served aboard the Enterprise, and this was as cheery a thought as he had ever had.

-----

He found himself walking down a corridor, the only thing keeping him from tripping in the darkness a dim green light vaguely outlining his surroundings. He tried to make out where it was coming from, but he could find no source, it was as if the light was simply there.

Tubes, wires and metal could be seen everywhere, the floor, the walls, even the ceiling. The whole scene had a very eerie and surrealistic tone to it, as if it wasn't quite real, as if it was somehow wrong. The air was heavy to breathe and had a stale taste to it, the humidity making his skin sweaty and sticky.

He could see someone approaching then, the silhouette of a figure walking up the corridor in slow and methodical pace. He tried to call out to it, but no sound was forthcoming.

Why was there no sound?

The approaching figure was illuminated briefly as it walked past a faint light and horror gripped him then, as he realized what the figure was. It was a drone, a Borg drone. Large areas of its body and skin had been removed, torn from the remains of the person's once biological self, and replaced by various cybernetic enhancements.

The seconds seemed to slow down as the drone approached ever closer. He tried to run away, to escape somehow, but he could do nothing, it was as if he was paralyzed. Instead he kept walking towards it, in that same methodical pace. But surprise took him as the drone walked right past him, as if it hadn't even noticed him.

It was almost as if he was one of them, one of the Borg.

A horrible thought crossed his mind then and he somehow managed to force himself to look down, to look down at his arm. But it wasn't there. Instead there was something else occupying that space now, something mechanical, something cybernetic.

He suddenly felt very naked and exposed, as if all his thoughts had just been made public, as if everything he was and stood for was put on display for everyone else to see. Fear gripped him and he tried to scream, but he couldn't, his mouth would not obey his commands, and instead he just continued on his path down the corridor, obediently, as if he was only a passenger in his own body, with no control over what it did.

A voice rang out in his head, the voice of a million people talking as one, in perfect unison, the all too familiar voice of the Borg collective.

"Anomaly detected in spatial grid two-one-one-five. Parameters fitting a possible breach level event. Investigate with highest priority." It said, and then suddenly everything went black.

The next thing Picard knew, he was sitting wide awake on the small bed in his ready room. His breathing was heavy and sweat trickled down his forehead.

He had been dreaming, it had all been a dream. He just sat there for a moment, staring at the floor, not daring to move a muscle, not daring to find out if the nightmare was truly over.

"No, it was just a dream, nothing more." He whispered to himself, trying to regain some of his composure. "..Just a dream."

But on some level he knew, he knew that what he had just experienced was not just a simple nightmare, but the thoughts and intentions of the Borg collective. One of the few remaining curses he still bore for having been assimilated into the collective once.

But what did it all mean? Breach level event? What was that?

Did it even matter to him?

The console on his desk beeped to life then, and slid out from its folded position inside the desk, startling the Captain in the process and bringing him back from his contemplations. He calmed himself and got up from the bed, walking over to the desk.

'Incoming transmission from Starfleet HQ', the screen read.

They're in an awful hurry to hear how the meeting with the Klingons went, Picard thought to himself. The Enterprise had barely gotten on their way from Q'onoS and already someone at Starfleet wanted to know what happened.

"The least they could do is wait for me to finish my damned report on the matter." Picard mumbled and sat down in his chair, making sure that he was in a presentable condition as he did.

He tapped the screen, accepting the incoming transmission. The display changed to that of a slightly aged man with gray hair and a very important looking uniform on him.

"Admiral, it's good to see you again." Picard said and put his best diplomatic smile on, trying hard not to show his dismay.

"Likewise Jean-Luc," The figure on the screen replied. "How did the meeting with the Klingon delegates go?"

"As well as can be expected, there was a lot of bluster on their part, but some progress was made. I'll have my full report on the matter sent to you as soon as possible." Picard replied.

Indeed any sign of progress with the Klingons could be taken as a very good sign, or perhaps as a sign of the desperation in the situation.

"That's good news Jean-Luc. However that's not why I've contacted you."

"Oh, then what is it?" Picard asked, already entertaining the idea that the Dominion had declared war on the Federation while he was on Q'onoS. And that the Admiral was just now informing him about it.

"Our long range sensors have detected an anomaly at the edge of Federation space, near your current location. It's situated close to both the Klingon and Romulan borders, and this is why I've contacted you. It's probably nothing but some of the scientists back here seem to think that it might be worth examining, and as you're already in the area, I thought the Enterprise would like to do the honors." The Admiral explained.

An anomaly? Picard thought to himself. Didn't the Borg voice in the dream say something about an anomaly? He dismissed the notion of the two things being related immediately though, choosing rather to forget about the disturbing dream and focusing on what mattered in stead.

"I understand Admiral," Picard acknowledged. "Although I have to say I'm a little surprised that you decided to use the Enterprise for a simple survey mission. Don't you think the flagship of the Federation could be put to better use during a time like this?" He asked.

"To be frank, yes, I do think the flagship of the Federation has better uses. But I might have been understating it a little when I said that some of the scientist are excited about this anomaly, their positively exhilarated about it. So that's why I'm sending you. I don't want anything going wrong on this one Jean-Luc, and there's no one I trust more then you and the Enterprise."

"I see Admiral, I'll do my best not to disappoint you then." Picard replied with a sincere smile.

"Good, I'm transmitting everything we know about the anomaly right now. Report back to me as soon as you know anything." He said, and the display changed to a message saying 'transmission terminated'.

Picard leaned back in his chair, soaking up everything the Admiral had just told him.

"Well, it looks like the Enterprise has one final hurdle to jump before we can get back to Starfleet HQ." He said to himself.

-----

A couple of hours later Picard found himself sitting in his ready room once again, going over the report the Admiral had transmitted to him for the third time.

His mission seemed straight forward enough, all he had to do was locate the anomaly in question and then perform a series of scans on it, to determine exactly what it was. It was more the location of the anomaly that bothered the Captain, as it was situated very close to both the Klingon and Romulan borders. If the two empires chose to, they could create quite a mess of the entire situation. A Federation ship near their borders performing in-detail scans could be misinterpreted quite easily, and that was not a very pleasant thought, since the whole thing was volatile enough already.

But worrying about those things was not why he was here, Picard reminded himself. The anomaly was the only thing his mind should be focused on right now. Besides, the sooner they completed this mission, the sooner they could leave this place.

Picard was just in the middle of the technical part of the report, the part explaining why it was so imperative to study this phenomenon. Apparently the chief scientist back at Starfleet HQ had gone haywire when he had first analysed the information coming back from their scans. Of course Picard didn't understand most of the techno babble that was scribbled on his pad, but he thought he had gotten a somewhat firm grasp of the basics of it at least.

In short, the anomaly was getting the energy, which was quite substantial, from somewhere previously unknown to their current grasp of physics, and discerning the location or method the anomaly was getting its energy was top priority, as it could lead to whole new avenues of scientific research, and perhaps even give them an edge against the Dominion if the method could be used as a new power source.

But the last part was probably just wishful thinking on the scientist's part, Picard realized.

The Captain was still deep in his own thoughts when he heard his commbadge chirp. "Picard here." He said absently as he tapped the badge.

"Captain, we are coming up on the anomaly now." He heard Commander Riker's voice say over the comm.

"Acknowledged, I'll be right there." Picard replied. There was nothing more he could learn here, so he got up from behind his desk, straightened out his uniform, and strode out of his ready room.

"Report." Came the order as soon as he stepped out onto the bridge.

"We have arrived at the coordinates Starfleet gave us and are standing by." Lieutenant Hawk, the helmsman, replied.

"What's the status on the anomaly, Data?" He asked and turned towards the gold skinned android, who had been given control over the more scientific parts of this endeavour, along with Lt. Geordi LaForge.

"The anomaly is currently in its dormant state but should reappear in a few minutes." He replied.

Picard recalled the report saying something about the anomaly disappearing, only to reappear exactly thirty-seven minutes later in the exact same place. Curious, he thought, that a naturally occurring phenomenon would be so punctual and precise.

"Good, prepare to make a full spectrum scan of the anomaly once it reappears, I want to know everything there is to know about it. Geordi, assist Data." The Captain said.

"Aye, Sir." Data and Geordi acknowledged, taking up their appropriate stations.

Picard walked over and sat down in the Captains chair beside Commander Riker.

The entire ship came alive during these next few minutes, as crewmen ran back and forth, readying a wide assortment of equipment for the upcoming task. On the bridge, Data and Geordi were busy adjusting the scanners to narrow on the area the phenomenon was supposed to show up in, and recalibrating it to perform a complete analysis.

Then, precisely as predicted, the anomaly appeared. "Captain, I am reading an increase in gravimetric activity, centred on the location where the anomaly should appear." Data said, swirling around in his chair to face Picard.

"On screen." the Captain said, eager to finally see what all the fuss was about. The front of the bridge changed to a holographic display showing an area of empty space outside the ship.

At first, the area was silent and nothing could be seen, except the ever present backdrop of space. But then, slowly, lights could be seen shooting back and forth, like small strands of lightning in space. And then suddenly, the entire area exploded into a bright flash of light, forcing everyone on the bridge to cover their eyes.

The light subsided and the crew reopened their eyes, but now the area in front of them was no longer empty, as a giant sphere, that looked almost as if it was comprised of some kind of liquid, had appeared there. Colored lights were still clearly visible inside the bubble, and its surface was rippling, like the surface on water.

"Incredible!" Commander Riker said and got up from his chair, to get a better view of the magnificent display.

"Indeed, number one, it is beautiful." Picard agreed.

The light from the stars around them reflected off the surface of the sphere, just like the sun would reflect off water, reacting with the glow from inside the sphere in a most fascinating way.

"But we're not here to gape at it in awe, were here to determine what it is, what are you picking up on the sensors Geordi?"

LaForge had a confused look on his face, as he analysed the readings on his console. "Sir, some of these readings are way of the charts and others… well, they shouldn't be possible at all. It's as if that part of space is very different from normal space in terms of both physics and on the subatomic level." Geordi said, still tapping his console to confirm the readings. "And it's not even constant, it's shifting back and forth as if it's neither here or there." He added.

"Is there anything we can do to make sense of it?" The Captain asked, this time directing the question towards Data.

"I suppose it could be possible to establish some sort of structure and cohesiveness to the phenomenon, by modifying the scanners to pick up subatomic patterns that are not related to that of normal space, and then try to anticipate the seemingly random changes." Data said, looking to Geordi for confirmation of his theory.

"I guess it could work, but the computer and the scanners will be hard pressed to solve a puzzle of that magnitude. We are talking about solving the base structure of a piece of space not at all related to our own, in terms of laws of physics. It will take some time I'm afraid."

The front of the bridge flashed in a bright light, forcing the crew to cover their eyes again. And when they looked out at the space in front of them again, it was empty. It was as if the bubble had never even been there.

"Then you better get started straight away, I don't want to stay here a minute longer then I have to."

-----

A week of intense scanning and study of the anomaly passed by, with little actual progress being made. The "bubble", which it was now known as, remained the mystery it had been when the Enterprise first encountered it. Even the sight of it, that had at first been breathtakingly beautiful, was now as dull as the void of space itself to the crew. The good news in all this was that neither the Klingon Empire nor the Romulans had shown up during this time, although they definitely knew of the Enterprise's close proximity by now, and were probably keeping a close watch on them.

Captain Picard had summoned all the senior members of the staff to the briefing room for a status report, in the hopes of reaching some sort of consensus on how they should proceed from here. On one hand they weren't really making any progress, but Picard wasn't all too willing to leave a mission unfinished either. So they would definitely not leave until every single possible trick they had at their disposal had been tried.

"Well, it seems as if everyone is present, so let's get on with the meeting." Picard said, regarding each and every one of the faces sitting at the long table. "Mr. LaForge, why don't you and Data start by telling us what you have discovered of the anomaly so far?" He continued, and motioned to the two officers to speak up.

"To be honest sir, not much." Geordi said with a resigned look on his face. He and Data had been working on the anomaly almost without pause for the entire week. And unlike his android counterpart, Geordi did get tired and frustrated at the fact that they had gotten nowhere in analysing it. "There are more questions unanswered now then there were when we first arrived. We have not been able to determine what is causing this phenomenon, or even where all the energy creating and sustaining it is coming from. It's almost as if it's completely detached from our own reality, and inside it, time and space seem to be in a constant state of flux, without any way to predict the changes or pattern." He explained at length.

Picard considered Geordis statement for a moment while rubbing his chin and contemplating all the information on the subject. He knew that the lack of progress was not because of either Data or Geordi, indeed they were two of the most brilliant minds on the ship, if not the entire Federation. But something had to be done. "What about you Data? Do you have anything to add?" Picard asked.

"I agree with Geordi's assessment of the situation sir. The anomaly is most peculiar and elusive, yet definitely worth further study. But there is no gain in the Enterprise staying here anymore, as we do not have the equipment to properly study this phenomenon." Data concurred.

"So the question then becomes, how will we proceed from here." Picard said, with a slightly disappointed look. He never did like leaving a mission unfinished.

"Captain if I may?" Counsellor Troi spoke up.

"Yes?" Picard prompted, hoping that she could shed some light on what to do.

"The moral of the crew has deteriorated severely over the past week. News of the brewing war with the dominion is continuing to come in, and the close proximity to both the Klingon and Romulan borders is not a helping either." She explained.

"Indeed Captain," Lt. Cmdr. Worf interrupted. "Security has had to break up a rising number of fights between crewmembers. Some have even had to be detained in the brig."

"Then as first officer of this ship I have to recommend we return to Starfleet headquarters and deliver them all the data we currently possess on the matter, they'll know what to do with it and how to proceed from there. Perhaps they'll send a better equipped science vessel to continue the work we have started here." Riker said.

"What Starfleet decides is not for us to speculate on, however if there really is nothing more we can do here then-" The Captain started saying but was cut off by his comm badge. "Picard here." He said and tapped it.

"Captain, you are needed on the bridge, we have a situation here." A hurried voice said.

"I'm on my way. Everybody return to their posts, this meeting is over for now, I'll give you further details on how to proceed once the current situation is resolved."


	3. Chapter 3: Strangers and Mysteries

**Author's Notes:  
**Feel free to post any thought's or comments on the story you might have. I've yet to receive any, so anything would be nice. Also, I'd like to get a little more feedback on the writing and grammar of my story. I'm from Finland, and as such I'm not as used to the language as most, so, if there are any blatant grammatical errors or just plain sillyness in the writing itself, let me know.

**Chapter 3: Strangers and Mysteries **

"Report." Picard demanded as soon as the turbolift doors slid open. Riker, Data, Troi and Worf followed him out in short order to take their stations, while Picard walked over to his chair and sat down.

"Sir, the last time the anomaly was active we detected a small variance within it that differed somewhat from the rest of the space inside the bubble, at that point it almost seemed like a tangible object, and when the bubble disappeared there was a ship at the point the bubble had previously occupied." The Ensign that had manned the sensors when all this had happened explained.

"A ship?" Picard asked with a surprised look.

"Well our sensors picked up nothing except empty space before the anomaly, and when it was gone there the ship was."

"On screen." Picard said.

The front of the ship changed again to show an image of a strange looking vessel tumbling aimlessly through space. The front of the ship looked like it had been crushed and floating debris could be seen all around it.

"Sir, the vessel appears to have sustained heavy structural damage and there are power fluctuations throughout the ship's power grid," Worf said, interpreting all the information the sensors were relaying to his console. "I'm also reading three lifesigns aboard it, coming from a rear compartment that still seems largely intact."

"Can you get a transporter lock on them?" Picard asked.

"There is some residual interference from the anomaly, but I believe I can compensate for it." Worf replied.

"Good, beam the survivors directly to sickbay, and have a security detail meet me there." Picard said and walked over to the turbo lift again.

"You have the bridge number one."

-----

By the time Captain Picard got to the sickbay, Dr. Crusher and a medical team were already busy examining the survivors.

A compliment of four security officers armed with phaser pistols were also stationed there, standing against the far wall as to not interfere with the medical crews work. Picard had wanted them there just in case. Being on a broken transport and then suddenly appearing on an alien starship could be a little disgruntling, and it wouldn't have been the first time the survivors put up a fight. But as it was, all three survivors were lying on the biobeds, out cold.

He noticed a pile of what looked like rifles and bulky spacesuits on the floor near the beds. Apparently the aliens had been thoroughly armed when they had been beamed over. A good thing they had been unconscious, as things could have gotten ugly if they had decided to panic and open fire on his crewmen.

But if the weapons and armor seemed odd to him, the survivors themselves seemed even stranger. Two of them were obviously human, that much could be plainly seen, but the one that Crusher was currently examining was clearly alien, of a race previously unencoutered none the less.

Its head, as well as the scaly grey skin, had similarities with the Jem'Hadar's, even the head was similarly formed and shaped. It had no mouth and no ears though, at least none that the Captain could see, and the rest of the body was nothing like the Jem'Hadar's. It was clad in some tattered rags and had chains around its ankles and hands, a prisoner Picard surmised. That would also explain why the two others had been so heavily armed, the ship they had come across was probably some sort of a prisoner transport.

"What's their status?" Picard asked, his eyes still examining the strange alien.

"The two humans over there are just unconscious and only need little rest. I've given them some sedatives so they won't wake up before their bodies have had the chance to heal properly." Crusher started. "But this one has a physique quite unlike anything I have ever seen before, even among aliens, so it's impossible to say for sure if it's okay. But if I had to guess, I'd say it's no worse off then the other two. I haven't given it any sedatives though, as it already had a lot of them running through its system." She continued, still scanning the alien for some clue as to its current state.

The Captain felt a bit perplexed at this point. Had the ship really somehow been transported there with the anomaly, like the sensor officers report seemed to indicate? And more importantly, why were two humans escorting a prisoner that was of a race previously unknown? Their ship had not been of a Starfleet design from what the Captain had seen, although there were plenty of freighters and civilian vessels out there that he hadn't encountered before, so that could easily be explained. Still, everything about these three seemed odd and out of place.

"That's good news doctor, inform me when they regain consciousness. I'll leave the security detachment here until they do, just in case. Oh and I think it's best if we store all their equipment and weapons somewhere else for now, I wouldn't want them getting their hands on them once they woke up, especially the weapons." He continued, looking down at the vicious looking rifles.

Soon after the rescue of the two humans and the alien, rumors started spreading throughout the Enterprise. Where had these strange survivors come from and why were the two humans escorting a chained prisoner of previously unknown alien race? Were just a few of the eagerly discussed topics among the crew. One particularly strange rumor even insisted on the survivors being from another dimension or some such, and that that was the reason for them being so odd.

Data had been tasked with finding out more about the small ship the survivors had arrived in, and to try to discern where they had come from and anything else of interest. But what he found out was far from enlightening, rather the opposite. Everything from the on-board instruments to the engine seemed to be horribly outdated, almost as if the survivors hadn't had access to some of the most basic technologies the Federation employed these days. But how could that be, since they were so obviously human?

Picard had contacted Starfleet HQ the moment he left the sickbay to inform them of what had happened, and to ask them how he should proceed. Starfleet decided that the best thing to do for now was to sit tight until their guests woke up. And when they knew more on how they had gotten there and who they were, they would decide on their next course of action.

And as it were it didn't take long before Worf received a hurried transmission, telling him that one of the survivors was awake and that he was needed in the sickbay.

The first thing to cross his path once he entered the sickbay was a security officer lying on the floor. He had a bloody nose and was apparently unconscious. The other three officers that had been posted there were currently wrestling with the recently awoken survivor. Apparently he hadn't taken kindly to waking up in a strange bed.

The officers did their best to restrain the giant, but they were having little luck. It now looked more like the survivor was restraining them instead of the opposite. Not especially surprising, Worf thought, as the strange human was nearly a head taller then them and much more muscular.

Beverly Crusher was there too, circling the group and shouting for them all to calm down. But as it was, that seemed to have little effect. She had a hypo-spray in her hand too, probably filled with some sort of a sedative, but she couldn't get close enough to use it, as the survivor was continuously positioning one of the guards between him and her.

"I must insist that you let go of those men!" Worf roared and pulled out his phaser pistol, pointing it at the brute.

The survivor had no idea what Worf had just said of course, but the pistol pointed at him needed no explanation. He was a little unsure of it actually being a pistol though, as it looked more like a toy, or perhaps a remote control of some kind.

The feral man regarded the strange looking alien for a while, still holding the guards tightly against him. Worf was after all only the second alien he had ever seen, and the other aliens had proven themselves quite hostile, who was to say these weren't also. But knowing that he really didn't have a choice in the matter, as he could hardly fight himself through this entire place, whatever that place might be, he let go of the nearly strangled Starfleet officers. They backed away and held their distance, trying to catch their breath and massaging their throats, letting the situation calm down.

The door to the hallway slid open, and in walked a very grim looking Captain Picard, with Deanna Troi following him closely.

"Could someone please explain to me what is going on here?" He asked with a raised voice, eyeing the unconscious security officer on the floor.

"It would appear as if our guest here was a bit startled when he woke up, Sir." Worf said, nodding towards the large man standing beside the biobeds.

"I see." Picard said, his expression turning to a smile when he realizes the situation for what it is. "It's a good thing I had their weapons removed then. Check on him, will you Beverly?" Picard said, meaning the guard lying on the floor with a bloody nose.

Picard stretched his arms out to his sides, as if to show the man he was unarmed and meant him no harm, then he slowly started walking towards the bewildered man. "We mean you no harm-" He started but was abruptly cut off by Beverly who was now busy treating the downed guard.

"I don't think he can understand you Jean-Luc, he has no universal translator and he didn't seem to react in any way when I tried to speak with him earlier." She explained.

"Worf, can you adjust the computer so that it will automatically translate everything said in this room." Picard asked, never once loosing eye contact with the survivor.

"Aye sir," Worf said and moved over to a computer terminal and started tapping on it. "It will probably take some time for the ship to learn his language if it's not in the computers database." Worf reminded him.

"Then we'll just have to try to get him to talk to us now wont we." Picard said and smiled at the newly awoken guest again.

But it turned out that only a few short phrases were needed for the computer to extrapolate the language the stranger was using. As it turned out he was speaking English all along, or, more precisely, a very strange dialect of the language. Another mystery to add to the pot, Picard thought.

"My name is Jean-Luc Picard and I'm the Captain of the USS Enterprise, the ship you're on right now." He started. The guest looked him up and down, going over every word Picard had just said in his mind and scrutinizing the man's physical appearance.

"The uniforms you're all wearing, they're not Confederate. And neither is this like any Confederate ship I've ever set foot on." He finally said.

This puzzled the Captain a bit. "I'm sorry, but I have never heard of an organization known as the Confederacy before, unless you're talking about the Breen Confederacy, and I very much doubt that you are, as they aren't overly friendly towards outsiders. This ship is part of the United Federation of Planets, just like everyone onboard it. I might add that it's usually considered polite to introduce yourself when you meet someone new, might I know who I'm speaking with?" Picard continued.

The guest stood still for a moment, wondering if he would be giving away anything important by doing that, but he finally came to the conclusion that it hardly mattered if they knew his name or not, so he responded. "Morham, my name is Chris Morham, a Marine in service of the Terran Confederacy, and I can't say that I've ever heard of the Federation either." He said at length.

"And as I've never heard of the Confederacy, it would seem that were both at an impasse here." Picard said with a disarming smile.

Morham let himself relax a bit, as he no longer felt as threatened as before. Picard responded in kind by telling his security detail, along with Worf, to stand down.

"How exactly did I end up here?" The stranger asked, looking around the sickbay. It all seemed to smooth, too comfortable, compared to all the previous ships he had been on.

"We found your ship badly damaged and adrift in space. You yourselves were pretty badly injured so we brought you onboard to treat you." The Captain explained, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

It all started coming back to Morham now. His mission, the captured Protoss warrior, and the strange anomaly that had rocked the ship shortly before he had blacked out. But he still had his doubts.

"Is he alright?" He asked, nodding towards the other human survivor.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking, and you really should be less suspicious of other people my dear Private. They're telling you the truth you know." The supposedly unconscious man replied.

Everyone's eyes now shifted to regard that person and Crusher had to recheck some of the readings on the computer as they still reported the man as unconscious. "Oh and I'm Fitch by the way, now that were introducing ourselves and all." He added with a stupid grin.

But he had barely finished that sentence before Deanna Troi interrupted "He has telepathic abilities, Captain!" Her alarmed voice said.

"Indeed I have," Fitch replied, looking at the woman with a surprised look on his face. "I take it that you are too? No wait… not telepathic, not quite anyway." He said and narrowed his eyes at the woman.

"I hope you can forgive my telepathic intrusion Captain, but it was the only way I could know for sure that you were telling the truth." He explained, trying to return Picards disarming smile, but to the Captain it seemed more ominous then disarming.

"I suppose I can forgive you under the current circumstances." Picard replied, deciding to give the survivors some leniency, this was after all a very strange situation for them.

"Good! And now that were done with the pleasantries I'd like to apologize for my friend here, he can be a bit simple at times, treating situations like an ape would. You know, smash and bash, that kind of thing." He said, looking over at Morham with a sneer. Morham was still too confused to take any insult though.

"Yes well, if you don't mind, I have a few questions for you, about where you came from and how you came to be here-" The Captain started but was quickly cut off by the doctor.

"That will have to wait, right now these men need to rest."

"There is one thing that will have to be dealt with right now though." Fitch said, stopping the Doctor in her tracks and nodding towards the Protoss, still lying on the third biobed.

"Yes, we gathered he was some sort of prisoner of yours." Picard said. They had removed the shackles from it, deciding that it would be the best way to proceed, the Federation had no quarrel with him and first encounters usually didn't involve one part being in chains.

"He is dangerous, very dangerous." Fitch started. "And I can guarantee you that he will not be able to tell your crew apart from any other human, and since his grudge is against just that, humans, I'd advice you to keep him locked up."

"I was afraid you might say that. The Federation doesn't usually keep newly encountered species incarcerated, but I suppose it can't be helped." The Captain said solemnly. "Beverly, erect a forcefield around his bed and inform me when he wakes up. Try to keep him calm at all costs until I arrive. Oh and I'll also leave the security detail here until he does, just in case." Picard turned to leave the sickbay, but was confronted by the sight of his beaten and bruised officers standing at attention against the wall.

"Well, perhaps not this security detail." He whispered to himself and resumed his march for the door. He had a million questions for the newly awakened guests but that would have to wait, doctors orders.

Fitch and Morham were equally puzzled, The United Federation of Planets, forcefields, space ships that were far to comfortable looking with people in pyjamas walking around in them, and a whole lot of other things were still unexplained. But just as Picard, they would have to wait and see what answers the future would bring them.

-----

A meeting for the senior staff, as well as the two human survivors, was held early the next day, after they had gotten the much needed rest the doctor had insisted on. The purpose of the gathering was of course for the crew of the Enterprise to learn more about their new guests. And as the guests themselves had seemed quite puzzled when Picard had first mentioned the Federation, he thought that the meeting might also provide them with some interesting insight into their current situation.

As strange as the notion sounded, this might actually be a first encounter situation with another independent human organization, previously unheard of, the Captain thought. The most popular theory among the crew was that they were from a long lost colony that had been isolated from the Federation and forced to evolve on its own.

All the senior officers were already seated at the long table in the briefing room, impatiently waiting for their guests to arrive, all except Doctor Crusher who was escorting the guests themselves. They had been so anxious to meet the survivors that they had all turned up early for the meeting, not wanting to miss even the tiniest detail of what was to ensue.

Picard gazed out trough the viewport to his right, at the stillness of the space beyond, and found that once again it calmed him a bit. He was tapping the table rhythmically with his fingers and his chin was burrowed deep in his hand.

Shortly before the meeting Data had actually found some evidence to support the theory about the anomaly being transportive in nature. Like a wormhole or the like, as he had explained it. This of course begged the question as to where these humans were actually from and how they could have remained undiscovered by the Federation for so long. Perhaps their home was even in some remote part of the Delta or Gamma quadrants, though how they would have gotten there was anybody's guess, since their ship had seemed horribly outdated and not even warp capable.

Then, at last, the doors to the briefing room slid open and in stepped Doctor Crusher, closely followed by the two guests and two security guards, the latter two who promptly took up positions at the door. The Federation wasn't usually this suspicious of their guests, and a meeting of this sort wouldn't normally warrant such safety procedures, but the recent threat of war with the Dominion had changed a great deal in the UFP and their standing policies when dealing with strangers.

The eyes of the people sitting at the table immediately moved to follow the strange entourage, with Fitch and Morham, the two survivors, staring right back at them. There was that strange looking alien that had pointed a phaser at him, Morham thought, having spotted Worf. The rest of them seemed human enough though. One guy had some pretty ridiculous looking yellow make-up on him and an unnaturally stale look about him but that was probably just some strange fashion quirk these people had, that and the pyjamas' they all wore.

The two guests seemed very different from each other. Morham was a huge man, with broad shoulders and a shaved head, the very epitome of a soldier. He did seem a little less animal and a little more man now that he was clothed and had a less bewildered look on his face though, Worf thought.

Fitch, in stark contrast to Morham, was a lot leaner and seemed a lot more controlled. His eyes told of a cold and calculating mind, an unsympathetic mentality that did what was required without the burden of either guilt or conscience. Troi didn't need to see his eyes to know this though. She could feel it in him, and it scared her. Where there usually were some feelings floating around in a person at all times, Fitch had nothing, he was simply blank, like a whole in the space around him, cold and lifeless.

Captain Picard, who was seated at the head of the table, got up and welcomed the two of them with a firm handshake. There were two empty seats just next to him and so the Captain motioned the guests to take them. He then proceeded to introduce everyone at the table to each other. And when that was over and done with, it was time to get down to the real business.

The revelation that the gold skinned fellow was indeed an android was a little disturbing to Morham though. How very different these people were from them. He wasn't completely unfamiliar with AI though, he had heard of the adjutant creations that were sometimes employed by the Confederacy and other powerful factions, artificial minds created to calculate strategies and help with the daily business of the higher ups. It was more the notion that Data was so lifelike and human in appearance that felt disturbing to him, and what's more, he seemed to have a will of his own.

"There are so many things I would like to ask you, and so many issues we need to go over, that I frankly don't quite know how to begin. So I guess the best thing would be to just get on with it." Picard started, focusing on the two guests. "During our brief chat in the sickbay the other day, you didn't seem to recognize the Federation when I mentioned it, a little odd since most humans belong to this faction, and even those that don't call the Federation their own, know about it. So, as a sign of good faith, I thought that I would start by introducing our organization, and then we can take it from there." He explained, putting on his best diplomatic charm.

"Suppose it couldn't hurt." Morham said, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms in front of him.

Picard got up from his seat and walked over to a large display mounted on the wall. He tapped a few controls on it and the view changed from the insignia of the Federation to a starchart of the Alpha and parts of the Beta quadrant, with parts of the space highlighted in a blue color. It signified the territory that the Federation occupied the guests would later come to learn. The Captain started by telling the guests about the basic structure of government the Federation utilized and the anti-capitalistic philosophies that they were so proud of. Then he moved on to mentioning that the Federation was actually comprised of many different races and planets, all living as one. Eventually, he had covered all aspects of the topic and given a complete and detailed description of the organization he worked for.

Fitch and Morham were both a little stunned when they learned that the Federation spanned thousands of solar systems, and that they had a great deal of alien member worlds among them. Their own Confederacy was comprised of only a handful of solar systems and the only alien species they had stumbled upon so far were the Protoss. Not only that, but if the map on in the display was correct then the Koprulu sector would also have belonged to the Federation. Something was definitely not right here, and Fitch thought it prudent to point it out.

"Captain, if you don't mind me interrupting," He said, getting up from his seat.

Picard stopped in his tracks and looked at the man. "Yes?" He prompted.

"I just noticed something rather peculiar." Fitch continued, and walked over to the display. "This sector of space right here," He said, pointing to a small area of Federation space on the display. "Is it inhabited?"

The Captain pondered the question for a while. "Yes," He finally said. The Enterprise had visited that region a while back during one of its assignments. "I believe there are a few Vulcan colonies in that area, why?"

"Vulcan?" Fitch asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Ah, of course, I keep forgetting you don't know this part of space as well as we do. The Vulcans were one of the species who originally founded the Federation." Picard explained, he had to remind himself again that these men apparently knew nothing about their world.

"Well, I'm no expert on starcharts, but I believe this is where our home is, the Koprulu sector." Fitch said.

"But, that's impossible." Picard replied. "We would have spotted your organisation a long time ago if that was the case."

"Yes, I know." Fitch agreed.

"Are you sure you aren't mistaking?"

"Like I said, I'm no expert on starcharts. But yes, by the location of Earth and the way the galactic spirals are located I'm quite sure that is the location of the Koprulu sector. This nebula, right here," Fitch said, pointing at a small purple cloud like spatial phenomenon. "Further confirms it."

Data's mind, who had continuously tried to solve the mystery of the anomaly and the strangers during these last few days suddenly clicked, the puzzle that had eluded him completed by a final missing piece. And it all came out of his mouth in the form of one single word

"Fascinating."

"Do you have an explanation?" Picard asked, wondering whether Data's obvious realization was a relevant one.

"Yes Captain, I believe I just solved the riddle of both the anomaly and our guests." He stated flatly, drawing Geordis full attention as well.

"Well perhaps you would like to explain it to the rest of us as well." Geordi said impatiently, he had been working on the anomaly, along side Data, without result for too long now, and if Data had a theory that might finally solve the mystery then he was anxious to hear it.

"Indeed, please elaborate." Picard echoed.

"One of the key problems we had while analyzing the anomaly was determining where it gets the energy to start and maintain the reaction that lead to the phenomenon, but so far we have not discovered the source. But I think I just did. Simply put, it comes from another dimension." Data explained. "This would also explain some of the fluctuations we have seen during the exact moment it appears and disappears." He continued, looking up at the Captain.

Picard had heard all about different dimensional theories so the idea didn't seem all that preposterous.

"This would also mean that our guests here could be from an alternate reality and not from an unknown part of space." Data added.

"So, what your saying is that this 'bubble' is actually some kind of wormhole like anomaly, except it links two dimensions together rather then two points of space in one dimension?" Geordi asked, catching on to Data's train of thought.

"Not so much a wormhole as a, well actually, a kind of transportation device. Everything caught inside it when it disappears will be transferred along with it to another reality." Data said. "Though it is worth mentioning that the process is highly unstable, it might have been sheer luck that our guests got through it in one piece the first time."

"I hope you're not saying we're stuck here for the rest of our lives." Fitch said, a hint of anger creeping through his otherwise calm exterior.

Troi found it odd that the man could be visibly angered, yet she still felt no feelings emanating from him.

"It is impossible to tell before we run some more tests on the anomaly. We might find a way to utilize the bubble safely now that we know a little more about what it does and how it works, but nothing is certain." Data explained.

"Good, I want you Data, and Geordi, to resume your work on the anomaly once this meeting is over." Picard said. "But for now let's get back to the reason we're all gathered here in the first place, to learn more about each other."

"Yes, I for one would be greatly interested in knowing more about your history. If indeed you are from an alternate reality, it seems that it's in large part very similar to ours, but at some point it obviously branches off and takes another direction." Riker said.

Morham had never been any good at history so the task of explaining it to the Feds fell to Fitch. Admittedly he himself was not all that well versed when it came to history either, but he knew the basics. The few things he remembered from the ancient history of Earth seemed to add up with the Federations view of history, all the way up to the late twentieth century. There things started to differ, first only minor things, and then progressively more and more things started falling out of place.

The eugenics wars had never existed in Morham's and Fitch's reality, and neither had the third world war, but they had had a similar occurrence. The more liberal views on genetic manipulation and cybernetic enhancements to the human body had led to a dramatic increase in 'not quite so normal' people in their society as well. It got to the point where normal people started fearing the mutated or enhanced ones, just like in the Captain's world. So it was no surprise that when a world wide government called the UPL came to power it would quickly ban all further enhancements and genetic tampering on humans. There was one dramatic difference between the two Earth's and how they dealt with the problem though. The UPL had not only banned future tampering, but it also 'exterminated' the ones that were already different in what could only be described as a global holocaust.

And in other regards Earth's situation was far from good at this point, it was slowly being choked to death by the ever increasing population, and crime and disarray was running rampant all across the globe because of it. The leaders knew something had to be done, and so in the end it was an ambitious man named Routhe that came up with a solution.

Colonizing other starsystems was an idea that they had only recently started toying with and the dangers were quite evident, not to mention that the trips between starsystems still took a very long time with their primitive FTL drives. So Routhe suggested cryogenically freezing the prisoners that remained from the extermination and then launching them off towards another starsystem. They would then finish colonizing the planets there, so that everything was ready for the rest of the settlers when they arrived. The prisoners were after all, expendable. And if they died, it would be of no real consequence.

Routhe's idea was soon carried out, and as result a number of large gargantuan class vessels were constructed and loaded up with as many prisoners as possible and launched into space. The trip was to last decades, but something went wrong during that time, and the ships never reached their new homes. Instead they continued their voyage through space until the ships reactors reached a critical state. As a result they crash landed on a number of planets in what would later be called the Koprulu sector.

When the prisoners awoke they found that they were a long way from their intended destination, and that their ships were beyond salvage after the crash. And this is how life in the Koprulu sector began.

Fitch went on by explaining how the Confederacy came to be and even of the planetary bombardment it had performed on Korhal to solidify its power years later.

Picard had to wince at that revelation, it seemed apparent that the humans in Morham's and Fitch's reality weren't nearly as well off as the ones in his own, even with the Dominion on their doorstep. In fact, the humans in the Koprulu sector seemed much like the Federation's earthbound ancestors, violent and deceptive.

"Are you telling me that atrocities like the one performed on Korhal never happen in this reality," Fitch asked when he noticed the apparent astonishment the ship's crew displayed. "Are there no wars, no conflicts, no nothing here?" He kept prodding.

"Of course there are, and there probably always will be." Picard said with a slightly disappointed look on his face. "But humanity as species has grown beyond that. Wars are still common, but the Federation has never been the antagonist." He explained.

"Captain, if I may." Deanna interrupted.

"By all means."

"It is widely believed that first contact with aliens, and the realization that we were not alone in the universe, was one of the key factors that contributed to the change in humanity's behavior. Now, from what I understand, the people in the Koprulu sector and their version of Earth never experienced a first contact situation, up until very recently."

"Ah, I see where you're going with this. They never had that unifying moment because they still thought they were alone in the galaxy."

"Precisely."

"And speaking of wars and atrocities in our own reality, there's actually a war on the horizon right now, with something called the Dominion." Picard continued, wanting to clear things up with the Confederates. Things weren't perfect on their side of the fence either.

"The Dominion?" Fitch asked.

"Yes, an organization with its eyes set on bringing harmony to the galaxy. A noble goal in itself, indeed something our Federation strives for as well, but it's the method they employ that causes the problem, as conquering and enslaving their enemies seems to be their preferred technique of accomplishing this goal."

"And then of course there's the ever present danger of the Borg. A collective of cybernetic beings bent on perfecting life by integrating the biological with the technological. In other words they conquer people and then turn them all into half-man, half-machine like drones that have no will of their own and no personal freedom."

"Well, all in all I think I'd prefer your problems to our own." Morham chimed in. "A few days before our arrival here we got into a war with the only other sentient species we know of, the Protoss. They incinerated an entire planet and destroyed a large portion of our fleet in just a few days. Oh, and they massacred my entire squad on a retrieval mission, let's not forget that. Who knows how much damage they've done by now. With any luck, humanity doesn't even exist in our reality anymore, at least no in the Koprulu sector."

Picard realized then that the alien they were transporting must be one of these aliens. And if they indeed were as brutal as these Confederates would have him believe, then it was a good thing that it was safely behind a forcefield.

A little later the meeting was adjourned, with everybody feeling a little bit more on top of things again. Picard sent a message to Starfleet HQ, appraising them of the situation and informing them that the Enterprise would remain where it was for a while longer and try to find a way to safely traverse the anomaly.

The guests of course were to be allowed full freedom on the ship until that. A curious decision by the Captain, Fitch thought. Had they been in Confederate space they would sooner have been locked up and interrogated for all the information they had, then set loose on one of their vessels.


	4. Chapter 4: A Ship Full of Wonders

**Chapter 4: A Ship Full of Wonders**

He tried to remain as silent as possible, while making his way through the thick vegetation all around him. He knew that remaining even somewhat discrete in this jungle terrain would be a near impossible task, given the bulky armor he was wearing.

Rain trickled down on him, the drops making small splashing sounds as it hit the neosteel metal of his powerarmor. To Morham, even that noise seemed a bit too loud to his liking.

How marvelous this technology was, he thought, forgetting the game he was currently involved in, and deciding that worrying about the noise wouldn't do him any good. Here he was, in an extremely realistic portrayal of a jungle, yet still on a starship deep in space.

The trees, the bushes and the plants were really nothing more then photons, held together by miniature forcefields, or so he had been told. If you looked upwards, you could even see the stars in the night's sky, although there should be a ceiling there in the sky's stead.

It had been Worf who had first told him about this 'holodeck', as they called it, and challenged him to a friendly contest. The goal of the game was simple, all Morham would have to do was to reach a designated point in the jungle, and capture a flag there, with Worf and a few of his men trying to stop him along the way.

The Klingon, as his species was called, had offered to give a few men to Morham, evening the two sides up a bit. But the marine thought it might be a lot more interesting to go at it alone. After all, he hadn't been too impressed by the display the guards in sickbay had shown. Besides, the two sides probably utilized very different close combat tactics, most likely they would only get in each others way.

According to Worf, everything would be as realistic as the real thing, during this game, except of course that the shots fired wouldn't really kill you. A good thing too, Morham thought. As Bertha, his rifle, would make short work of the unarmored feds if he ever got a clean shot on one of them. Why those guys chose to wear nothing but their customary pyjamas during a firefight was beyond him, although Worf had claimed that no amount of armor on your body could save you from a phaser blast on full settings. Morham had still decided to wear the suit though, as it provided more then just protection.

He checked the short range sensors that were built into his suit, not really expecting to come up with any contacts so soon in the game, but still, he wanted to be sure. This was after all his first engagement with the Feds, and he didn't quite know what to expect from them.

Sure, they had their fancy technology, and even their 'phasers' as they called them. But even the dumbest soldier knows that the one doing the fighting is the man with the weapon and not the weapon itself. So it would be interesting for him to see how he fared against the likes of the Federation. He had the experience, they had the technology. Of course the men he was fighting weren't real soldiers, but merely a security force aboard a starship, but still, they would have to be at least somewhat trained in the arts of war, if they were to have any hope of repelling a boarding party.

'Blip', a sound resonated through his speaker system. It was a sound made everytime a new sensor contact was made. The blip was accompanied by an ominous looking dot on his heads-up display, showing the exact location of said sensor contact, and boy was it close. Only a few meters in front of him, and yet, he couldn't see anything through the thick darkness of the jungle. The vegetation was just too dense. He could have simply opened fire then and there, spraying the general area where the enemy was, and surely killed whoever was out there, but he chose not to. No, it would make too much noise and thus give away his position to the rest of the guards.

Taking down one enemy just didn't cut it, if you knew the next one would be able to take you down as a result.

So instead, he started circling around to the side, hoping to avoid detection and somehow sneak up on the enemy so that he could knock him out cold, instead of actually opening fire. A question crossed his mind then; did this holodeck shield people from blunt force trauma, caused by other players, too? He shook away the question immediately though, as he thought the Feds could do with a little toughening up either way. A hit to the head wasn't always a bad thing.

A short rush towards the target, aided by the mechanically augmented legs of his powerarmor, brought him up so close to the man that he could see the surprised look on his face, just before smacking the butt of his rifle in it.

Guess the safeguards didn't protect him after all, Morham thought, as the Starfleet guard fell to the ground, unconscious.

He left the downed guard behind and continued on through the jungle, nearing his target with each step. He wasn't far away now, he knew. But there were still two other guards, as well as their leader, Worf, out there somewhere.

Suddenly, a deft sound was heard, a sound like nothing Morham had never heard before. A fraction of a second later, a bright yellow bolt of energy flew past his head, nearly hitting him.

He threw himself to the ground, before he gave the matter any more thought, a good thing too, since the area where he had just stood was peppered by more of those energy discharges a second later. He lifted his massive rifle and pointed it in the general direction from where the shots were being fired from and pressed down on the trigger.

The sound of the electromagnetic coils in his rifle activating and deactivating in rapid succession was heard, with a host of needle sharp projectiles shooting out towards his enemy at supersonic speeds. The vegetation in front of him was ripped apart and the entire area he was firing at was bombarded in a torrent of devastating fire.

Another firm advantage of his weaponry, compared to the phaser rifles, was that it had a much higher rate of fire. A dozen of the projectiles might miss their mark, but that would be moot if even one of them hit. And as it was, one did.

Two down, two to go.

He didn't have to wait long for the next one of his opponents to make himself apparent though, as another burst of energetic fire launched out towards him. One of these bolts actually managed to glance him, but the computer must have interpreted that as a wounding shot only, as he was still in the game. He rolled to the side and came up to a kneeling position a few meters from where he had just been.

He checked his sensors to see where his enemy was, but there was nothing out there according to them. The Feds must somehow have managed to blind his sensors. Probably with those 'tricoder' thingies or something he guessed. You had to give them some credit, they might not be the best fighters, but they were crafty.

He stayed as still as possible, knowing that the darkness would shield him from prying eyes well enough, but not from ears. The real mistake to do now would be to try and move around to gain a better position.

'Crack' he heard a twig break a short distance in front of, and to his left. The night sky was filled with the sound of Bertha bringing peace to yet another of the Feddies.

Three down, one to go.

Another sensor contact made itself apparent on his heads-up display now, but this one was not from an enemy, it was the flag he was supposed to capture.

He continued on with his trek again, making his way towards his goal slowly, taking the long way around, and not the more direct route, though he seriously doubted that anybody wouldn't expect him to do just that.

After a while he came across the entrance to a small cave, the doorway barely large enough for him to fit through. There was obviously a fire in there as the dancing lights were clearly projected onto the rock walls. There were still no enemy contacts showing up on his HUD though, but by now he knew it would be useless to expect any. He decided to wait a while outside the cave, just to be sure the terrain was clear.

And then slowly, when he was content that the entrance was unguarded, he crept up to the opening and stepped through it. He made his way down the narrow corridor, his rifle pointing forward at all times, ready to unleash its fire at any given moment. If Worf decided to storm him in that narrow space, he would soon regret it.

He came around a bend, and could now see that the corridor opened up into a much larger cavern, some distance up ahead. A bonfire was blazing in the middle of that room, and a flag mounted on a pole stood nearby.

Damn! Morham thought. He knew Worf had to be in there, waiting for him, but there really was no way he could safely enter the room, he knew. He thought about it for a while, and finally decided that he would just have to rush in and hope to catch his one remaining enemy off guard by the sudden and bold move.

His muscles tightened, his mind focused, and then he exploded into action.

He ran as fast as he could, straight into the cavern, and as soon as he cleared the entryway he spun about, hoping to catch the Klingon, standing on either side of the opening, by surprise. But he was too slow.

Worf crashed into him with enough force to knock him over before he had even made half the turn. His rifle flew out of his hands and landed on the rock floor a few meters from him. Morham himself was now lying face down on the ground.

"I was hoping you would do that." He heard the familiar voice of Worf say.

Morham was a little surprised that he hadn't taken this opportunity to shoot him already, and so he slowly got up from the floor, and turned to face the Klingon.

"Not very sportsmanlike, to sit tight like that and wait for your opponent to make the first move. Were setting up a camp perhaps?" Morham chided.

"If I would have wanted to be unsportsmanlike, I would have shot you in the back while you lay on the ground." Worf retorted.

"Yeah well, in any case, I was hoping you'd be a little slower." Morham said and opened his visor. "So, what now?"

"We fight of course." Worf replied.

Morham couldn't see him holding any weapons though. "If you were thinking of taking me on unarmed, I'd advise against it. I'm much faster and stronger in this armor then a normal human. The fight would hardly be considered fair."

"And that is what will make it so… Interesting." Worf replied with a grin, that last word he had said with an almost feral voice.

Morham barely had time to notice when Worf suddenly leapt for him to punch him straight in the face. The marine staggered backwards, nearly falling over.

"Wow, that's some punch you're packing there." He said with a groggy voice, trying to focus his foggy sight while wiping the blood from his face.

"I took the liberty of disabling the safety protocols for hand to hand combat, it wouldn't be challenging enough if we couldn't feel each others hits, don't you agree?" Worf asked, circling the still wobbly Morham.

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that earlier, when I smacked one of your men with my rifle." He started explaining but was interrupted when Worf came at him again. This time however, Morham was ready, and was able to sidestep the punch.

The marine ceased this opportunity to grab hold of the Klingon, and a wrestling match ensued. Worf nearly matched Morham's strength, even with the powerarmor. But due to The Klingon's superior close quarters fighting skills, Morham was soon lying flat on his back again, staring at the ceiling.

All you had to do during a wrestling match was turn your opponent's strength against him. Morham had heard about this before, but he didn't know you were supposed to take it so literally.

"You're a worthy opponent Private Morham. But if you ever hope to be a true warrior, I suggest you brush up on your hand to hand fighting." Worf commented.

And just when the hell am I gonna start fighting my enemies hand to hand, Morham thought, but decided not to say it out loud. As his head was still dizzy, and would be hurting for days to come. He didn't want to make it worse by angering the Klingon further.

- - - - -

"May I join you?" Deanna heard a voice ask.

Councilor Troi looked up from her seat, at the messhall table, and saw Fitch standing there, with a tray in his hands. She wanted to say no, the Ghost, as he was now known as among the crew, felt very disturbing to her. But as a Starfleet officer it was her duty to accommodate the guests as well as she could. "Yes, of course. Have a seat."

"Interesting things these 'replicators', as you call them." Fitch said. "They can make you any kind of food in the blink of an eye, and from thin air too it would seem."

To him, this was a little overkill when it came to the general comfyness on the ship. No wonder these Federation people were all so placid and uninteresting. Then again, how much better off wouldn't the people in the Koprulu sector be if they had these same luxuries.

"Yes, they do tend to make things a lot easier." Deanna agreed. And in truth, she had become so accustomed to them, just like the rest of the crew aboard the Enterprise, that she couldn't even imagine living aboard a starship for an extended period of time without them.

"So, what did you order?" She asked and looked over at Fitch's plate.

"I'm not quite sure." Fitch answered. "I just thought I'd try a random alien dish, seeing as I've never tasted any alien delicacies before."

He was poking at some of the more exotic looking parts of the dish with his fork, while he was talking, wondering weather it was alive or not.

"There's actually something I've been meaning to ask you," He said after a brief silence between the two, while still trying to make up his mind on weather the food in front of his edible or not.

"Yes?" Deanna prompted.

"During my training, I came across many other telepaths, just like me, and they all seemed very alike, very similar to each other. It wasn't difficult for me to determine who had the talent, and who didn't have it. You on the other hand, you somehow feel different from them," He said, finally deciding to actually taste the food. "Why do you think that is?"

"Well, I suppose it could be because I'm part Betazoid, and in any case, I'm not actually a telepath." Deanna replied. She decided to elaborate on that part when she saw Fitch's questioning look on his face.

"Forgive me, I forgot you're not familiar with the different alien species in our reality." She said. "Betazoids are a species that look very much like your average human, but they do have one major exception. They're both empathic and telepathic."

"Empathic?" Fitch asked, almost choking on his meal. The choking part more due to the strange tasting dish then the sudden revelation that the woman in front of him was actually both part alien that had empathic abilities. "That means you can sense what other people feel, rather then know their specific thoughts. Yes, that might explain why you feel so different from the others."

"Are there a lot of telepaths and empaths in the Federation?" Fitch asked.

"No, well, there are certain races like the Betazoids that tend to all have these abilities to some degree, but among most species, including humans, those traits are extremely rare."

Fitch's attempt at further conversation was foiled when Deanna's comm-badge made its customary chirping noise.

"Counselor Troi, report to the sickbay immediately, the alien has awoken and you are needed." Without so much as another bite, she got up and excused herself.

Fitch, who didn't want the UFP's first meeting with the Protoss to slip by, without him there, quickly followed, explaining that he could be of some help in restraining the brute's psionic powers if he became hostile.

- - - - -

The Captain, along with Doctor Crusher, Morham and Worf, were already waiting for Troi and Fitch, as they entered the sickbay. The security detachment Picard had assigned to watch over the survivors, was also there, ready for any kind of trouble, and more then a little nervous when faced with the large and intimidating alien.

Fitch was a bit surprised to see that Morham had somehow managed to get a split lip and a few bruises on him, since last he saw the marine, and though he just itched to make some kind of witty remark on the matter, he quickly put the thought aside as there were more important things to mind right now.

Apparently the Protoss had gained consciousness only moments ago, as he was still sitting on the biobed, staring at the ground, and trying to shake the dizziness away.

The alien was well aware of the entourage outside the force field though, studying his every move with great interest. He used his psionic abilities to make a quick probing of the room, and as a result, he didn't feel all too threatened, as he could only sense ill will from two of the humans, the rest merely seemed curious, and perhaps a bit uneasy.

The question "Where am I?" came to the Starfleet Captain suddenly. It wasn't actually asked though, and neither could it be heard by ears, instead, it was as if the question had popped up directly in his mind. But somehow, the Captain still knew the alien had been the one asking the question.

Another small mystery, Picard noted. How had the creature actually known his language? It wasn't as if it would have had any opportunity to decipher it yet, and the translator hadn't had time to kick in, much less translate a whole new language.

The Protoss looked over at the Captain, who was the one standing closest to the forcefield at that time. The alien had correctly surmised that he was most likely the leader of the humans who had captured him.

Picard took a step closer and spoke with a clear voice. "You are on board the United Federation of Planets starship Enterprise, and I am Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of this vessel."

The dim lights behind the Protoss' eyes seemed to shift slightly as he looked at the Captain. But he said nothing.

United Federation of Planets, the alien though. It had never before heard of anything like that, yet it and its templar brethren had been thoroughly briefed before their mission to the Koprulu sector.

"We mean you no harm, we simply want to talk to you." Picard continued, hoping to get the alien to respond in some way.

The Protoss sensed that the Captain was being honest, he really was speaking the truth.

It still didn't know exactly what was going on around it though, and so, caution was still preferable to trust. It knew first hand how brutal and shifty the humans could be, having seen his brethren being killed by them. They were a young species, unpredictable and feral, in his eyes.

Yet, some of the minds in that room were different from the others, just like the mind of a Protoss was different from that of a human's. Did that mean there were other species there as well?

The alien looked around the room with a scrutinizing gaze, evaluating each and every one of the people standing on the other side of the forcefield. Two of them were different, one, was physically identical to the other humans, but the other, while roughly human like in appearance, also had several differences, most notably, strange ridges on his forehead. Yes, the Protoss though, that one was clearly a different species, but none that he had ever come across before.

Then another revelation hit the Protoss. The humans in the Koprulu sector shouldn't have had the technology to create forcefields yet, so how was it possible that he was trapped by one?

"Tell me, how did I come to be on this vessel?" The alien asked, narrowing its eyes at Morham, apparently recognizing the man from their previous encounter on the surface of Mar Sara.

"You were captured during our little skirmish," Fitch cut in, stealing the Protoss' gaze. "Yes, that's right, you lost the battle. But things didn't exactly go our way either. When we were transporting you back to our fleet, our ship flew into a spatial anomaly of sorts, and that's how we were brought here."

"And where is here? I have never heard of a Terran organisation calling itself the Federation." The Protoss asked, turning towards Picard again, seemingly unfazed by Fitch's attempts to aggravate him. "I have heard stories that say the Terrans in the Koprulu sector are originally from another place, a distant homeworld. Are you by chance from there?"

"That's actually quite an interesting topic, one which I think you might have some problems believing at first, but I can assure you, what I'm going to tell you is the truth." Picard started, though he would much rather have avoided this topic for as long as possible.

"To put it in simple terms, our people, though we are both human, are from two different dimensions. We, the Federation, come from a reality that is similar to yours, yet different in many ways." He explained, half expecting some sort of an outburst from the alien. A claim like the one he had just made, must have sounded ludicrous to the Protoss. But no outburst was forthcoming, the alien just sat there, watching the people around it.

"When you were being transported from the surface of Mar Sara, the ship carrying you flew into what was in fact, an inter-dimensional gateway of sorts, which acted as a portal between our two realities. We don't know how it was formed, or exactly how it works yet, but it is there, none the less."

"Strange." The Protoss said, thinking the thing over. He had been closely watching Picard's mind the whole time he was talking, to see if the strange human was lying.

"My people have never encountered any phenomenon like the one you speak of, and we have explored our own galaxy from one end to the other. Yet, I cannot sense any deception from you."

The Captain could hardly believe it, how could this creature believe him so easily. If their positions had been reversed, and he would just have been told that he was in a different dimension, Picard would never have accepted it at face value.

"Captain," Troi spoke up. "I think our guest is using his telepathy to check whether you are lying or not. Much like Fitch did when he first awoke."

"I see." Picard said, amusedly thinking that keeping secrets in the Koprulu sector would have to be hard indeed, seeing as every other person you came upon were scanning your mind. He hadn't thought that powers like that could be used on him with so little effort though, or without being noticed in someway. Reports of alien races using their telepathy on humans usually stated that the event was a clearly noticeable thing, even unpleasant at times.

"I can see that this is something your species does appreciate." The alien said.

"Well, usually we prefer to discuss things the normal way, looking around in another persons head without that persons permission isn't exactly considered polite."

"Then I will refrain from doing it in the future." The Protoss said simply.

"Good, though I suppose I can understand why you did what you did." Picard said.

The Protoss simply nodded in response.

Picard then decided to do something that no one else in the room expected. He had been studying the alien intently during their entire conversation, and while it remained quite enigmatic, he still felt as if it harboured no ill feelings towards any of them.

"As I said earlier, we mean you no harm." The Captain said, moving over to a nearby console.

"The Federation has no quarrel with you, or your people, and that's why I'm going to lower the forcefield surrounding you now, as a gesture of good faith." Picard said, he knew that this could be quite dangerous, but with his security detail there, he imagined they would be safe enough, even if the alien became hostile.

It was like he had said earlier, the Federation dislikes first contact situations where one of the people involved is incarcerated behind a forcefield. He needed to get the aliens trust, if any headway was to be gained.

"You can't do that!" Morham burst. "You can't let that monster loose! It killed my entire squad right in front of my eyes, its race destroyed a whole planet without any provocation, it deserves to be locked up, all of them deserve to be locked up!" He shouted, loosing all control over his anger.

To him, the Captains proposal, and apparent naiveté, were bordering on madness.

"My friend here might be a bit brusque when expressing his opinions, but I'm inclined to agree. Letting it go would be a very bad idea." Fitch agreed.

The Protoss shifted slightly, and focused his eyes on the disgruntled marine. "Destroyed your planet without provocation?" It questioned. "Would you rather have been consumed by the spreading Zerg infestation?"

"What the hell are you babbling about? What's a Zerg?" Morham continued ranting.

At this, the Protoss eyes widened briefly, much like a human's would, if he had been shocked by something. "You don't know about the Zerg?" It asked.

Morham looked over at Fitch, seeing if he knew something about what the alien was talking about, but he just shrugged as a response.

"Apparently not, but why don't you enlighten us?" The marine finally answered.

"This is strange news indeed," The alien started. "Yet it would explain some of the unanswered questions surrounding the Zerg, and their attack on your colonies. The Protoss was surprised when we first learned how far you had allowed the infestation to spread, we never could understand why you did not intervene, but now you're saying you haven't even heard of the Zerg?"

"Cut the crap already, what are these Zerg and what's all this about infestations?" Morham demanded, growing tired of the Protoss' circular answers.

Picard didn't understand much of what was going on, but he decided that it might be best to let the foreigners deal with this on their own, so he remained silent.

"The Zerg is a species, or rather a collection of many different species, controlled by some form of intelligence we have yet to discover. Once, each of the species that are now Zerg, were nothing but normal animals, but then the swarm came, assimilating them into their hive, and twisting them to suit their own needs, until finally, they remained but an echo of their former selves. We don't know much else about them, except that they for some strange reason, seem to be interested in assimilating your species into their collective."

Captain Picard couldn't help but cringe at the phrasing the Protoss had used, it sounded a little too familiar to him. In fact the entire description of the Zerg sounded much like the Borg, except for the exclusion of the cybernetic component.

"That's a bunch of crap!" Morham said dismissively. "How come we've never heard of these Zerg, if their supposed to be attacking us?"

"While I probably wouldn't express myself as colourfully as my fried here, I too would very much like to hear about this." Fitch said.

"I'm afraid this new revelation is as puzzling to me as it is to you." The alien replied. "The planet you call Chau Sara, had been completely overrun by these beasts, with several of your major colonies burning. I do not see how such a thing could have escaped the notice of your leaders." It explained. "We burned that planet to protect you, and ourselves, by preventing the infestation to spread to your other worlds. There was nothing we could have done for the people still alive on the surface."

"Sorry, but that still just sounds like a bunch of crap, you're only telling us this to get free, right?" Morham laughed. "Fitch, can you use your fancy brain power to see if the bastard's lying?"

"Afraid not, his mental defences are too strong." Fitch answered.

"If you wish, I could lower them temporarily, if that is what it would take for you to believe me."

"It would be a start, at least." Fitch said.

"Then so be it, my mind is open." The Protoss said.

Fitch took a step forward, and locked his eyes with the giant alien, concentrating as hard as he could.

"Well, is it working?" Morham asked impatiently.

"It would go a lot faster if you'd just shut up. His mind is alien to me, I need some time learn it before I can go poking around for information." Fitch sneered.

A few moments passed in silence, as the entire assembly eagerly waited for the two telepaths to finish their session. Picard thought about asking Troi to see if she could learn something of what was going on, but then decided against it. It would be better to see how this all played out.

"It's true." Fitch finally said, breaking the telepathic link, and backing away from the Protoss.

"But that just doesn't make any sense, how could we not know if we were attacked?" Morham asked, still unconvinced.

"Actually… I think I might have an explanation." Fitch said. "It's quite simple, really. I think the Confederacy did know about it, but chose to keep the whole matter secret. During my latest missions, I've come across a few reports, telling that strange creatures had been killing and mutilating people on Chau Sara, seemingly at random." He explained.

"What I first thought strange about the thing, was that the Confederacy was interested enough in these seemingly mundane critters, to mark them as highly classified. I think these might be the Zerg the Protoss mentioned."

"Yes, that sounds very much like the Zerg." The Protoss agreed.

"Then, what's their purpose? Why were they attacking civilians on Chau Sara?" Fitch asked.

"Like I explained earlier, their exact motives remain unclear. All we know is that they have taken great interest in the human species."

"This still doesn't explain how we've never heard of them." Morham said.

"That should be pretty obvious, even to a monkey like you." Fitch said. "The Confederacy never told anyone about them."

"Yeah right, why would they keep something like that a secret?"

"Who knows, but during my service to the Confederacy, I've learned that they'll do just about anything to achieve their goals, including selling out an entire world to be killed, if it served their purpose at the time. Remember Korhal? They're still capable of things like that."

"This is bullshit! Can't you see that he's just telling you this so that he can get free and then kill us all?" Morham shouted, unwilling to accept what he was hearing.

"No," Fitch said calmly. "I checked his mind, he's telling the truth, weather you want to believe it or not is of no relevance."

Picard decided to take this time to voice the suggestion, he made earlier, again. "If what the Protoss says is true, then I really see no reason for keeping him confined behind a forcefield." He said, much to the dismay of Morham.

"But I will say this only once, Protoss. If you start any trouble while free, I will use any means necessary to pacify you, and throw you right back in that cage." Picard said, letting what he had said sink in for a while.

Then he proceeded, and pressed a few buttons on the console in front of him, disabling the forcefield. The artificial barrier of static energy flickered briefly, and then vanished.

The alien took a few tentative steps forward and reached out with its hand, to see if the barrier was really gone, and much to his pleasing, it was. "I thank you for your trust in me, Captain Picard." He said and walked out to position himself directly in front of the people standing there, his full height towering over them.

"My name is Thalas."

Picard smiled and nodded in appreciation. "Well, now that you're free, there are still a number of things I'd like to-"

But before he had the chance to go on, the entire ship rocked violently, nearly throwing the people in the sickbay off their feet. Picard grabbed hold of the console near him and tapped the comm badge on his breast hurriedly. "Picard to the bridge, report!"

The voice of Commander Riker could be heard over the comm. "Captain, the anomaly is growing in diameter, and we've been caught in the intensifying gravity well it's projecting."

"Move away from the anomaly, maximum impulse! I don't want to be pulled in if the gravity gets any stronger." The Captain ordered.

"We're trying sir, but the gravity is already to strong! If we keep trying to break free, we risk breaking this ship apart!" Riker shouted over the ever increasing din in the background. And as if on queue, the ship started trembling violently, its hull straining under the constant pull between the two opposing forces.

Damn, Picard thought. Just when things seemed to start looking up, something like this had to come along. It all seemed almost too convenient, like it had all somehow been staged. He quickly shrugged the thought away though, as there were more pressing matters to focus on right now.

"It seems we have no choice then." He said solemnly. "Disengage the engines and reroute as much power to the shields as you can, let the Enterprise drift into the sphere. Hopefully we'll be as lucky as our guests here, and reach to the other side in one piece."

Riker acknowledged the command and ordered the helmsman to disengage the engines. The shaking ceased almost immediately, and the Enterprise started drifting towards the anomaly peacefully.

A few seconds later, the ship crossed the outer edge of the spatial phenomenon, its metal hull being encased in the strange liquid like substance inside the sphere.

Then the shaking started up again. Consoles exploded into sparks, as the very fabric of reality was warped in places, and the groaning sounds of the outer hull could be heard echoing inside the ship.

Picard held on to the console he was standing next to, gritting his teeth and hoping that his beloved ship could survive the anomaly's turbulent inner workings long enough for them to reach the other side.

If there even was an other side.


	5. Chapter 5: Warzone

**Chapter 5: Warzone**

The mighty frame of a Venator-class attack cruiser sailed through the empty darkness of space, surrounded only by the faint light of a million stars. Its blocky configuration and simple vedge-like silhouette told of a more practical, more militaristic design philosophy. A vessel built for war, with both its offensive and defensive capabilities being among the best this galaxy had to offer.

The Stalwart, as this particular warship was designated, was flanked by several other vessels. Some being of the same class as itself, and others of the smaller, albeit similarly shaped, Acclamator-class.

Admiral Roth, the man in charge of the taskforce, stood at the front of the bridge of the Stalwart, gazing through the huge panoramic window in front of him, at the vast emptiness and void on the outside.

Behind him, he could hear a very inpatient Captain pace up and down the narrow walkway, with the rest of the bridge crew working tirelessly in the two crewpits on either side of that aisle. Every now and then the Captain would look down at men working in the pits, anxious for them to complete their scans of Shelo, as this system was named.

Roth, along with the rest of the taskforce, had been tasked with the tedious mission of inspecting a number of outlying systems on the galactic rim, for any signs of Separatist activity.

The Admiral knew however, that the chances of them actually finding anything related to the Confederacy of Independent Systems out here, was almost non-existent. There were billions of uninhabited systems, just like this one, and any single one of them could be home to a re-supply station, a monitoring post, or anything like that.

But the low chance of enemy contact was also the reason the Stalwart and its accompanying force had been assigned to this mission. As all the ships under Roth's command, including the Stalwart, were fresh from the shipyards, and as such, they had to be 'run-in' before they were deployed into any serious combat situations.

If this had been peace-time, the ships wouldn't even have been deployed for recon missions yet, not without further dry-dock testing. But as it was, the clone wars were taking its toll on the Republic forces, and new ships had to be rushed into service.

And although missions like this were unwanted among the military-men, they were necessary. So instead of sending battle hardened ships that could be used to safeguard some important world, or stave of a Separatist assault, a fitting compromise had been reached.

And this was where Admiral Roth and his little entourage entered the picture.

His ships weren't the only things in need of testing and experience either, as his crew was also relatively fresh. Most of them hadn't even served aboard a real military vessel before this very mission. They had merely been recruited by the Republic and given a crash course in what they needed to know, in order to serve aboard a starship and fill out the void of officers needed for the Republic fleet.

"Have you completed your scans yet?" The Captain behind Roth asked, directing his question to the men operating the ships sensors.

"Almost Sir, there's no sign of any Separatist activity yet, no man-made stellar objects have been registered on our scopes, and from what we can tell, the planets look uninhabited too." One of the younger Lieutenants answered. "But there is something giving off some strange readings out there, not far from our current position."

The Admiral, overhearing the conversation, noticed that the Lieutenant who had replied was nervous, and not from anything he had seen on his scopes either, but rather about his whole position here on the ship. The man in question had been a sensors operator on a mining ship before the war, and as such, this entire experience would no doubt be quite intimidating for him.

"What is it? Smugglers?" The Captain asked eagerly, rushing over to the Lieutenant who had spoken, thinking that perhaps this time they had actually stumbled across something of some significance. They had yet to test their weapons on a live target, and if it turned out this sensor reading was really smugglers or pirates, he would be quick to give the order to disable the bandit.

"From what I can tell, it's a simple spatial anomaly, Sir. That's-" The Lieutenant started, but before he could finish he was cut off by the gruff voice of the Admiral.

"Spatial anomalies do not concern me, Lieutenant. If you find any sign of the Separatists or other man made unknowns, then report it, otherwise, don't." The stern faced man said.

How he despised this mission and the apparent naiveté of some of his crewmen. Space anomalies indeed, what would be next, performing a planetary survey just to see if it was terraformable?

He might as well have been shipped off with a crew consisting of chimps.

"Aye, Sir." The Lieutenant acknowledged and turned back to the console he was operating.

"Sir!" The same Lieutenant shouted mere seconds after he had turned around to resume his duties, and this time the Admiral heard, in his voice, that he had discovered something of significance. "I'm picking up several ships exiting hyperspace, not far from here!"

"What? Can you identify them?" The Captain asked.

Even Roth found this interesting enough to actually turn around and walk over to the officer who had first discovered the approaching hyperspace signatures.

"Yes, the enemy vessels read as Separatist capital-class ships. It's a Separatist battle group!" The Lieutenant said with obvious worry in his voice.

"But how could that be? It can't be coincidence, and our patrol plans are supposed to be top-secret!" The Captain said.

"Top-secret doesn't seem to be enough these days." Roth replied simply as he turned to face the window again, watching as several tiny objects appeared out in the distance.

At present, they were nothing more then dots on the horizon, barely visible with the naked eye. But soon, as they made their approach, those dots would grow into the great hulks that the Separatist warships were.

The question of how a Separatist fleet could just suddenly appear at their exact location still played through the Admirals mind. It was puzzling to say the least, and damn near impossible, unless they somehow had gotten their hands on Roth's patrol plans. But that would mean that someone quite high-ranking would be the traitor.

The doors leading from the bridge slid open, and in walked a man wearing an unassuming old brown robe. "Well, if I was guessing man, I'd say we've got a mole on one of our ships." The always calm and composed voice of the Jedi Knight said

"That's really the only possible way they could have known about us." He added, as he joined the Admiral and the Captain at the front of the bridge.

His name was Cartaine, a simple Jedi Knight in rank, still far from attaining the position of Master. He had been stuck with this less important task of aiding Admiral Roth by the council. Not long ago he had still been a Padawan learner, and as such, this was the first real assignment he had been given to fulfil on his own, a sort of test, to see if he was ready or not, for the ever increasing duties of the Jedi.

"There are over a dozen contacts registering now, they have fired up their weapons systems and are currently targeting our ships." The Lieutenant reported, the fear in his voice rising with every word.

"It would seem as if our enemy is anxious for a fight." Cartaine added light-heartedly. How he could retain his happy-go-lucky humour during times like these was beyond the Admiral.

"Transfer your readings to my screen." Roth said to the Lieutenant, and walked over to the nearest console. Its display shifted to that of a graphical interpretation of what was going on outside, as the Lieutenant patched his feed through to it.

Roth could see at least thirty Munificent-class Frigates, four Recusant-class Destroyers and two of the massive Trade Federation Battleships on the screen.

His own force, consisting of no more then twelve Venator-Class Destroyers and nine Acclamator-Class Frigates, wouldn't even be a challenge for the Separatists, should he decide to stay and fight.

No, the only thing to do now was to withdraw and report their findings.

"How long before they reach weapons range?" He asked one of the other officers down in the pit.

"At least another minute, Sir."

"Sir," Another officer interjected. "We have reports of sabotage aboard the ship, engineering reports our hyperdrive has been disabled, and at least five other ships are reporting the same thing."

"What! This can't be!" The Captain shouted angrily. "Sabotage of that magnitude would mean that we don't just have one infiltrator among us, but several!"

"Indeed, it's strange that I haven't sensed any of them earlier, they know what they're doing, that's for sure." The Jedi commented.

The Admiral himself was growing quite worried now. His options were quickly fading, but something had to be done, and soon.

"The approaching ships are scrambling vulture droids, they… they seem limitless." The young Lieutenant said, his voice faltering, as his screen was filled with an ever increasing number of smaller dots, representing fighter craft.

"How long before the hyperdrives can be repaired?" The Admiral asked.

"Impossible to say at this moment, Sir. The repair crews haven't even had time to analyse the damage yet." One of the officers replied.

Roth looked out at the fleet slowly advancing towards them, with a scold on his face. It would seem there really was only option left to him then, unfortunately that option was exactly what the enemy was hoping for.

"Fine, if it's a battle they want, that's what they'll get." He said with a determined voice. "Contact all the other Ship Captains in our battlegroup and have them take up an offensive formation and scramble fighters. Tell them to fix their hyperdrives as fast as possible, I don't intend to stay here a second longer then needed." He told one of the communications officers, who promptly relayed that order to the rest of the fleet.

"Cartaine, I think you would be more useful in your starfighter during this engagement, I want you and your fighters to thin out those vulture droids."

The Jedi nodded, ran down the walkway and exited the bridge.

With the Jedi's exit, the only thing remaining for the Admiral was to wait. Outside, he could see the enemy fleet growing bigger by the second, the swirling masses of droid starfighters tumbling about around their larger motherships like insects circling their hives.

They would suffer horrible losses this day if the repair crews weren't able to fix the hyperdrives in time, this much the Admiral knew. Their only hope lay in escape. If they wouldn't be able to do that though, there was nothing holding the Separatists from grounding his fleet into spacedust.

- - - - -

"Damage report!" Riker shouted, as he picked his battered self up from the floor of the bridge.

Although prepared, he had been knocked off his feet during the violent turbulence from the anomaly. His arm had been badly hit during that fall, and as a result, he was now cradling it with his other arm. He forced himself to shrug off most of that pain though, showing weakness in front of the crew right now was a bad idea.

He tried to wave the smoke that filled the bridge from his eyes, wanting to see the extent of the damage with his own two eyes.

Lining the walls were several broken consoles shooting sparks and a few of them were even openly on fire. Crewmen were running to and fro in a mild state of panic, trying to put out those fires, while others were working their consoles furiously, trying to control the damage and bring some measure of stability to the whole situation.

"I said damage report!" Riker shouted again.

Worf, who was supposed to give him that report quickly made his way over to his station, having been thrown some distance from it when the worst of the turbulence had hit.

"Internal sensors are showing damage across all decks, and the hull has been breached in several places," The Klingon said with a loud enough voice to be heard over the chaos on the bridge.

"I have temporarily patched the breaches with emergency forcefields, and it looks as if they're holding." He continued, checking his console for more information.

"Propulsion is offline, both warp and impulse. But I've managed to get the shields back up to seventy-three percent. Apparently they weren't as affected by the anomaly as most other systems." He continued as the information kept scrolling across his screen.

"There are several wounded, some quite serious, but no reports of casualties as of yet." He finally concluded his report.

At least there was some good news in all of this, Riker thought to himself, no casualties so far. "Have we cleared the anomaly?" He asked, directing his question to the helmsman.

"Yes, the anomaly has disappeared and we are free of its gravitational pull." Came the answer.

Riker sat down in his chair with a deep sigh, the ship had taken a fair beating, but at least they were still in one piece. "Dispatch damage control teams and contact the Captain. He needs to be informed of the situation."

But just as Riker had settled down in his seat, thinking the worst was over, Worf interrupted him once more. "Sir! Sensors are picking up several ships not far from our current position."

"What? Are you sure, check the readings again, it might be a glitch in the system." Riker said, turning towards Worf.

"The sensors are working correctly, the ships are out there."

"Alright, what kind of ships are they?" Riker asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I'm having problems locking on to them, probably due to some residual effects from the anomaly." Worf explained, obviously irritated at the equipment not working properly.

"But if I'm reading this correctly then there are at least thirty ships out there, all roughly the same size of the Enterprise, with two of them actually four kilometres in length. There are also several hundred smaller craft in the area, roughly the size of our shuttles."

That was quite a substantial force, Riker thought to himself. "Can you identify them?" Riker asked, and winced in pain as his injured arm made itself remembered again.

"No, they match no known vessel types." Worf replied.

"Any indication as to what they are doing out there?"

"I'm getting readings of heavy energy exchange between the ships, it almost looks as if they are engaged in battle." He finished and looked up at the Commander.

Rikers expression now changed from one of curiosity to one of alarm.

"On screen." He demanded.

The holographic displayer blinked into view, with the view of space splayed across it. Visible against the backdrop of the multitude of tiny stars however, was a scene quite different from what Riker was used to.

A space battle of huge proportions was being fought two unknown factions.

Dozens of kilometre long capital ships could be seen, spewing blue and red energy bolts at each other from their weapon emplacements. Smaller explosions could be seen, filling the voids between the behemoths, lighting up the interior of the bridge from time to time.

There were also smaller, perhaps one man fighter craft, dodging and tumbling about while spewing forth their own weapons fire there. Riker had never before seen ships of this type and configuration, the sheer energy output that the sensors were reporting from them were simply too high to be matched by the majority of species in the galaxy. That is… anyone in their own galaxy, he thought, as a very disturbing notion came to mind.

"Get me the Captain, NOW!" Riker shouted without taking his eyes of the battle raging on outside.

"There's no need to shout number one, I'm already here." Came Picard's voice from behind him, as the Captain walked up to stand beside his first officer.

"Never before have I seen anything like this." He said, more to himself then anyone else.

A huge explosion and a blinding light filled the viewscreen suddenly, as one of the larger capital ships reactors went critical, and the entire thing exploded in a huge ball of fire, shocking the Captain back to his immediate surroundings.

"Number one, send out a message across all subspace frequencies, explaining that we have nothing to do with this battle. I don't want either side taking us for the enemy and attacking us." The Captain said.

"Are you sure that's wise Captain?" Riker asked. "They probably haven't noticed us yet, but if we send out a message, they will. Are you sure you want to attract their attention?"

"They might not have discovered us yet, but they will. We're too close for them not too. And without a clue as to who we are, they will probably just assume us to be part of the enemy force." Picard explained. "No, we need to make our intentions clear as soon as possible."

Riker didn't like the plan, but he did realize that it was the best way to proceed, so he relayed the order to the comm. officer.

The Captain walked over to his chair and sat down, opening a comm channel to engineering as he did. "Captain Picard to engineering."

"LaForge here." Came a reply over the background noise. Apparently things were as bad down there as it was on the bridge.

"How soon can you have propulsion back online?" The Captain asked.

"At least another hour, Sir. There are a lot of other things we have to deal with first, things like keeping the life support going and the warp core from going critical." He answered over the tumult.

"Get impulse back online as soon as you can, make it your top priority."

"Aye, Sir." Geordi acknowledged and severed the comm link.

Concern was now quite evident on Picard's face, as he pondered all the different ways this volatile situation could play out. If either one of the sides currently engaged in the battle taking place some distance from them mistook the Enterprise for an enemy ship, they would be hard pressed to defend themselves.

If the sensor readings could be trusted even one of the larger capital ships could easily overpower them, especially now that the Enterprise was in such a banged up state.

The ride through the anomaly was over, and they had survived it. But the predicament they were in now could turn out to be just as dangerous as the previous one.

How many times had not the Federation encountered enemies that seemed far superior to them, and always they were hostile. The Romulans, the Borg and now the Dominion, were but a few examples of such foes.

- - - - -

"Admiral, I have something I think you should take a look at." The same Lieutenant that had first warned Roth about the Separatist attack, shouted from his station down in the crew pit.

Roth walked over to the side of the walkway, looking down at the young crewman, wondering what could be so important as to draw his attention away from the battle raging on outside.

Two ships had already been lost, just because they hadn't had time to reach the relative safety that the battle formation provided. And more would soon follow without the keen eyes of the Admiral guiding them.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Roth prompted, his voice informing the young man that the matter had better be important.

"I just picked up a new sensor contact on my scopes. It's a ship, holding position some distance from the engagement zone, and it's broadcasting a message. The language wasn't consistent with anything in our database so I ran it through the translator, I think the message is saying that the ship is not apart of this battle and that they mean to stay neutral in the conflict."

"What do you mean by 'just picked up'?" The Admiral asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Had the officer somehow missed this ship initially? If so, then it would constitute a serious failure to perform his duties on his part. And things like that were not welcomed right now.

"Well, it wasn't there a second ago when I checked, there was just the anomaly I was trying to tell you about earlier in the exact same position." The sensors operator explained, his voice a bit shaky.

"Could it have been a misreading by the sensors?" Roth asked.

"There's really no way to tell, at least not until we go over the sensor logs."

"I see," The Admiral replied. Could the strange ship have been outfitted with some form of stealth technology, fooling the Stalwart's sensors enough for it to remain relatively hidden?

"Can the sensors determine anything of the ship itself?" The Admiral kept asking, more curious then angry, at the moment.

"The design doesn't match any known ship types, either Republic or Separatist. It could be a civilian ship of some sort, though it's a little big to not be mentioned in our database. And what's more, is that it seems to be damaged. There are several breeches along its outer hull, and the power fluctuations seem to indicate that the power distribution is quite unstable."

The Admiral pondered the matter quietly for a while, but ultimately, there was but one logical course to take. "Most peculiar," He said. "If it does anything else inform me immediately, it could very well be some sort of a Separatist ploy. But for now we can do nothing about it, I need every single ship at my disposal if we are to win this battle. I suggest you inform Cartaine about the ship as well." He ordered. Then he moved back to the front of the bridge to tend to their immediate situation.

"Admiral!" The hurried voice of the Captain said. "One of the Munificents have targeted us and is approaching on an attack vector, it will be in firing range within-" He barely managed to say before the deflector shields on the Stalwart started taking on a high concentration of turbo laser fire.

The sound the high intensity energy bolts made as they impacted against the shields reminded Roth of bombs going off in the distance, muffled somehow, but still so very loud and powerful. And they just kept on bombarding the Stalwart, as the enemy ship concentrated all its fire on them.

"Turn this ship about, so that the maximum number of turrets are able to fire at the enemy ship!" Roth shouted. "Let's give them a taste of what it's like to be on the receiving end for a change!" He could feel the ship suddenly jerking as the internal dampeners didn't quite have time to smooth out the sudden and abrupt change in course. "All batteries, fire at will!"

The space between the two ships was filled with turbo laser fire then, as the two mammoths started trading blows with each other. Red and blue streaks of highly concentrated energy could be seen leaving one ship and then dissipating harmlessly against the shielding of the other, and for a long time it seemed as if the two giants could go on like this forever.

But the shields could only absorb so much energy before finally overloading and giving up under the continued stress, and much to the dismay of the crew of the Munificent who had first attacked, their shields turned out to be vastly inferior to the newly designed Venator's own. Slowly they started buckling, allowing a few stray bolts to pass through unchallenged at first, and then finally they disappeared completely.

The deadly weapons on the Stalwart weren't being harmlessly absorbed any longer. Instead they were now tearing huge chunks from the enemy ship's hull with each shot, leaving trails of fire spewing out from the wide open cracks.

The space around the ship was filled with its own debris within seconds, and its superstructure was burning.

"Sir, I'm reading huge internal explosions in the attacking vessel." One of the tactical analysts reported. "The explosions seem to be spreading at a rapid pace throughout the ship."

But he hadn't even finished that sentence before the Admiral was greeted by the sight of the enemy ship breaking into two, with explosions erupting from all over its surface.

Glee overtook the bridgecrew of the Stalwart, as they cheered their first real victory in battle. But as much as Roth would have liked to join in that mirth, he knew the battle was far from over yet.

"Silence!" He shouted. And just as quickly as the roar had come into existence it died down again.

"There are still plenty more ships out there, and if we hope to come out of this alive, we have to remain focused. So I suggest you return to your duties and save the celebration for later!"

- - - - -

The mood on the bridge of the Enterprise was quite different from that of the Stalwart's. In fact, it was quite the opposite, with things looking bleaker with every passing minute.

"Sir!" Worf's voice cut through the quiet tension. "Two of the smaller craft have just broken off from the main battle and are on an intercept course with the Enterprise."

Picard had feared this moment. He knew that sooner or later somebody was bound to come around, asking who they were. The real question on his mind was weather they would do it politely, or at gunpoint. And it would seem as if the moment of truth was finally upon them.

"Are you sure they received our message of non aggression?"

"Undoubtedly," The Klingon replied. "We have been repeating the message uninterruptedly ever since you first ordered it transmitted."

"What can our sensors tell us of the enemy ships?"

Worf looked down at his console again, scanning the strange ships as they made their way for the Enterprise.

"Captain, I'm reading no life signs from either of them, it would appear that they are fully automated. I can say nothing more of them with any degree of certainty."

"Robotic starships?" Picard asked, with a puzzled expression on his face.

"It would be quite logical, Sir." Data interrupted, looking back from his post. "Assuming you had the means to program and mass produce an intelligence that was sophisticated enough to accomplish the task. It would be far more cost effective then to employ living beings in regular ships like that, not to mention more humane."

"Still, I'd prefer the ships coming to evaluate us to have a real sentience behind them, not just an artificial mind programmed for warfare." Picard said. The fact that whoever controlled these ships had the ability to mass produce thousands of vessels just like them was not lost on him either.

"Try to open a channel to one of them." He ordered.

"They're not responding," The comm officer said. "They might not even be able to, seeing as how they are completely automated."

"They're firing!" Worf shouted just as the sounds of impacts against the Enterprises shields could be heard, and a slight shudder could be felt through the entire ship.

"Report!" The Captain demanded.

"Minimal damage to the shields, but considering the size of the fighters, they do seem to be quite formidable." Worf said.

"Captain, with the Enterprise still suffering from the power fluctuations caused by the anomaly, it is possible that the attacking ships could penetrate our shields in a moment of weakness and cause massive damage as a result." Data said.

The Captain silently contemplated what course of action he should take. Should he open fire on the attack ships? The Enterprise could easily destroy these two vessels, but would it invite more of their kind to attack?

While he was deliberating, the bridge shuddered yet again as the two fighters came around for another pass, spraying the shields with their fire.

"Mr. Worf, you said the two fighters were automated, correct?" Picard asked with a solemn voice.

"Yes sir, there are no lifesigns aboard either of them."

"Are the phasers online?" Picard continued.

"Yes sir."

The thought of what he was about to do coursed through Picards mind, destroying those ships might attract the attention of the rest of the alien fleet, inviting them to attack. But then again, he couldn't let them keep on firing at his ship like that.

"Target the ships, fire when ready." But even as those words left his mouth, Picard knew that he would soon come to regret them.

Two bright beams of highly concentrated energy lanced out from the saucer section of the Enterprise and connected squarely with the hostile ships. Both of them were destroyed in an instant of brilliant fire, and their wreckage was sent spiralling off into space.

A few moments passed in silence, as the crew waited for what was to come. And then those fatal words were finally heard.

"Sir! One of the larger ships is breaking away from the battle, heading towards the Enterprise!"

Picard's head sank as he realized the worst possible thing had come to pass. There was no way the Enterprise would be able to defeat one of the larger sized ships. They probably wouldn't even last a minute against a ship with that kind of firepower, not in the state the Enterprise was in right now.

"How long until they get within firing range?" The Captain asked.

"I estimate that it will take no longer then a couple of minutes."

- - - - -

The Munificent-class Frigate that had just broken formation with the rest of the Separatist fleet didn't escape Cartaines notice. Odd that it would endanger its own mission so, he thought.

He had also been informed of the strange ship that the Frigate was apparently heading for, but with a bunch of vulture droids on his tail he hadn't had the time to give it a more detailed look.

But now that the Separatists obviously risked their own battlelines to engage the foreign ship he was all the more interested in it. There was something more too it though, it was as if the force itself was begging him to examine the odd ship. A curious feeling the Jedi noted.

"TK-421, have your wing form up behind me," Cartaine said over the comm to one of the nearest clone pilots. "I'd like to examine that Frigate that just broke formation, but I can't do that with so many vulture droids around, help me clear them out will you?"

"Copy that Gold Leader, breaking to join up with you." Came the obedient reply. And soon Cartaine found that he had four ARC-170 starfighters following him in a wedge formation, ready to plow the way for him, so to speak.

The warning lights inside the Jedi's starfighter started flashing, indicating that hostiles were approaching on attack vectors. He looked down at the sensor screen to get a better picture of what was going on. "We've got an incoming group of six vulture droids from nine 'o clock. Come around to engage." He said.

The four ARC-170's with the Jedi starfighter leading them banked and turned so sharply that would they not have had internal dampeners inside their cockpits, they would have been nothing more then stains on the glass by now. The turn had put them on a direct path for the enemy contacts, approaching them head on.

Seconds later the two forces had reached firing range and the space between them erupted into violence, as both sides started spewing their high intensity energy bolts towards the enemy. Two vulture droids as well as a ARC-170 took some heavy fire in those opening seconds and burst into flame. The screams from the clone pilot echoed over the comm systems, as his burning body was flung into space.

Cartaine nearly collided with the enemy when he was forced to fly right between two of their narrowly flying fighters to avoid their weapons. That little manoeuvre warranted a loud pitched: "Yaaaoow!" from the R4 unit situated on his wing, as it managed to scrape the top of its head against one the wings on the Vulture droids.

"Calm down R4, I know what I'm doing." The confident Jedi said, biting his teeth as he danced through the rest of the debris in his path.

As soon as the two groups had passed each other the entire region erupted into chaos, as it now was every man, or droid, for himself. Coordination becoming all but impossible in the thick jumble of laser fire and starfighters, instinct was the only thing keeping the fighters alive now. Instinct, which the droid minds lacked.

But it was in these conditions that the living pilots excelled, far outmatching their droid counterparts. As the battle no longer was a simple matter of calculations but more a matter of instinct and gut feeling coupled with the unpredictedness of the battle.

The enemy fighters started blowing up, one by one, as their numbers steadily diminished. Another enemy wing joined the fray as the dogfighting was on, but that didn't seem to slow the Jedi and his clones down.

It didn't take many more minutes before the last of the Vulture droids were blasted to pieces, erupting into a very gratifying ball of fire and debris. No more then two of the four ARC-170's that had followed Cartaine into the fray had been destroyed.

"Good job men, TK-421, take your wing and resume the mission, Gold Leader out." Cartaine said into the comm and swung about to head for the newly appeared ship and the Frigate approaching it some distance away.

His comm system crackled to life and the voice of Admiral Roth was heard: "What do you think you're doing? You're needed here."

"It's the strange ship you told me about, Admiral. A Separatist Frigate just broke formation to intercept it, and I also have reports of a wing of vulture droids attacking it some time ago. Whoever they are, I don't think they're on friendly terms with the Separatists." Cartaine explained.

"So? This does not merit the attention of a Jedi Knight during a direct engagement with the Separatists! Do I need to remind you of just what is at stake here?" The Admiral asked, his voice taking on a sterner tone.

"I know, and believe me normally I wouldn't even think twice about it, but it's something more this time, the force itself is telling me that my attention needs to be focused on that strange ship. Just trust me, you don't want to ignore what the force tells you." The Jedi explained.

On his end the Admiral was fuming, he had no understanding of the force and wasn't even sure if he even believed in its existence. But he couldn't order the Jedi to turn around either, as they were all free to do as they wanted. "Fine, report back as soon as you can. Let's just hope our fleet will still be here when you do." The Admiral said and terminated the comm channel.

"Is it just me or does he seem a little more grumpy then usual today?" Cartaine asked his R4 unit. The droid rolled through a series of beeps and chimes that sounded more like an amused chuckle then anything else.

"Well, in any case, I want you to start scanning the vessel we're headed for, I would like to know as much about it as possible before we reach it." The Jedi said, flipping a few controls in his cockpit, adjusting his monitors to display whatever the droid found.

- - - - -

Picard's stare was firmly fixed on the viewer, watching the approaching behemoth. "Have they responded in any way to our communications?" He asked and looked over at the comm officer.

"No sir, nothing so far."

The Captain's shoulders slumped. There was no possible way the Enterprise could defeat it, and propulsion was still offline so escape wasn't an option either.

Then he finally reached a decision on what to do.

He punched a few controls on the armrest of his chair, opening a comm channel to the entire ship. "This is the Captain, All non essential personnel proceed to the escape pods, I don't want any unnecessary casualties if the Enterprise is attacked. As for the rest of you… Battle stations."

The entire ship came alive then, as civilians hurried towards the escape pods for safety and the crew took up their positions, some of them getting their phaser rifles in case the enemy would try to board them at some point in the upcoming battle while other stood ready to assist with damage control.

"Mr. Worf, keep scanning the incoming ship for any weaknesses, their technology seems very different then ours, there might be something we can exploit there, load the torpedo tubes and power up the main phasers." He added once the comm link to the rest of the ship was severed. "Do not fire until fired upon, we still can't be certain about their intentions."

"Aye Sir." Came Worfs reply.

The Enterprise was now as ready as they ever would be. But with their power grid still out of focus and their shield and weapon strength considerably weakened, Picard realised they would be hard pressed to accomplish anything.


End file.
